Carry On
by Geekery15
Summary: The continuation to "Wandering Around This Town". Will Gibbs and Ziva ever find a way to get back all that they have lost?
1. Flying Tigers

**Title: Carry On**  
**Author: Geekery15  
Rating: R (to be on the safe side).  
Summary: The continuation to "Wandering Around This Town". Will Gibbs and Ziva ever find a way to get back all that they have lost?  
Spoilers: Possibly  
Time Period: Season 5  
Author's Note: I lack a beta, but I will try my best to catch my own spelling and/or grammar errors.  
Special Note: For better understanding, read "Wandering Around This Town".  
Feedback: Such kindness shall not go unnoticed  
Disclaimer: The characters of NCIS do not belong to me.**

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**Chapter 1: Flying Tigers**

Fifty-five yards away a Hong Kong Sniper steadies her arm and properly positions her rifle making sure that when she is given orders, one shot will be the one and only kill shot.

* * *

This is what Snipers are used for. This is their duty--to make sure that while they practice the taking of one life, they center themselves with the knowledge that they will save a life in return.

Such a different speed for former Ziva David.

These days Ziva David answers to Zanna Sato; A member of the SDU, Special Duties Unit, a sub-division of the PTU, Police Tactical Unit, of the Sniper Team.

Going rogue had been an option, but blending into another country and their Police Agencies had meant a better means of protection and survival for her life. Naturally she took into great consideration of the knowledge that she perhaps did not deserve to live; to survive in a world that had given her more downs than ups, but she could not quit now. Giving up would have been far too easy--far too shameful; lacking dignity.

She also knew that without her being alive; her father could go on with his life and she was not ready to let him get the best of the situation. He has orders to kill her now, but he can not find her.

Whether she is behind decisions or ahead of them, there is one man that shares his world with hers; a former Michael Rivkin.

In today's world Michael answers to Makio Sato. His professional duties on the same exact page as Zanna. His decision respectful and beloved, as it should be for his wife.

When he popped the question her heart was certainly not in the right place, but her mind was. She knew of his devotion to her now; after having to come to her rescue twice even if the first time had been orchestrated for killing her--as ordered by her father.

Without his help she would have never been able to return to America and get the chance to ever face Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs again--to apologize and to possibly try for that special bond they once had between each other. Without his help she would have never been able to flee America and get another chance to live.

A Mossad had been her devil while a former Mossad had been her angel. She was grateful for the strength to untangle the two; to understand the evil within her father without truly accepting it and to accept the good within Michael with truly understanding it.

The ability to know the difference established a sense of pride within herself.

* * *

A smoking gun, out of bullets--trigger still being held down by his firm finger is clutched firmly inside his hand. His forehead creased; sweat glistening his brow.

In the corner of the warehouse he hears Special Agent Timothy McGee's voice through his earpiece.

"Shots fired--I'm going in!"

* * *

Team Gibbs is banged up as they shuffle into their squad room. The first person to meet their leader's eyes is Director Shepard. Her eyes icy, some-what humorous. Gibbs fights the urge to grunt in her general direction knowing that from her elevated position she will not receive the full effect he intends to give to her.

The snark is alive in the air, and it clings to him like a second skin. It overpowers his tiredness from their most recent case and their incredibly instant completion of said case because Director Shepard is due for a mouthful.

* * *

When Gibbs learned of the Director's Special Operation consisting of the focal point of her obsession to The Frog and his Senior Agent; he wanted nothing more than to stick it to her in ways he never had the need to ever do to her before.

Their confrontation was everything, but sweet. That is the way he wanted it, too. He wanted to finally set her straight. To plow into her as she had done to him when she left him without a concrete reason years before; then to throw himself in reverse and plow over her once more for much more effect. He wanted the episode to be monumental, and satisfying.

He felt the need like he had never before. As a professional he stood beneath her, but as a human being he hovered above her like a cooperate tower--and his Agents positioned on his six.

He took it personally. Her decision to defile his team twisted his one and only gut--the object he used to crack cases and get through his difficult life, and she knew this. She knew using his Senior Agent would come to a difficult and unsatisfying end for him and his team, but never for her.

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was hit the hardest. The entire team walked around his tormented heart as if the ground around him was littered with cracked egg shells. The issue was classified as being sensitive and due to Tony's emotional withdrawal evident on his face throughout the days, weeks, and the months--a sensitive case it remained.

* * *

Special Agent Jasmine Huntington is the first to finish her report. Standing before Gibbs' desk, she awaits his open hand.

"Am I free to go?"

He skims her perfectly executed paragraphs; the proper header and finish to her usually perfect reports.

"Yeah." His gaze returns to his own report, "But I wouldn't stay out too long." He hit's a few keys before looking at her. "You've got an appointment for an evaluation first thing in the morning."

Her face falls a little, but she has grown used to her personal business being spread amongst her team members. If is not Gibbs who says it loudly, it is DiNozzo who gets to the bottom of it in an impressionable amount of time.

"Oh, oh--BUSTED!" Tony points his pen at her from across the room.

Ignoring Tony, she looks at Gibbs, "Right." After addressing Gibbs, she returns to her desk to gather her things.

"Evaluation…estimations…calculations…" Tony looks to McGee for additions.

"…assessments…appraisals…valuations…" McGee looks between Tony and Gibbs, slightly nervous that he should have not joined in with the teasing.

"Juvenile." Agent Huntington mutters under her breath.

"Getting nervous now are we?" Tony winks playfully at her.

"We?" She zips up her backpack.

"Well…you and the little voices in your head."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barks; hoping his loudness will frighten him.

"Kidding, boss. I was kidding." He throws in his boss' general direction. "What's your hurry?"

"Do you really have to know?"

"No." He straightens his shoulders, "…but I would like to."

"Let her go, DiNozzo." Gibbs tries again.

Tony looks at his boss working. Thinking about his own report, he sighs in slight defeat. "Alright…I'll let her go…"

"Thank God." She says very clearly while making her way to the metal doors of the elevator.

"Bright and early, Huntington!" Tony hollers.

She rolls here eyes while tapping her feet. In seconds the steel doors split and she rushes inside hardly letting those that are getting off the elevator to even get off normally.

As soon as the metal doors close again, Tony looks at McGee.

"Nice one, Probie."

"Thanks." McGee smiles proudly.

"I never want to hear that again." Gibbs warns McGee more than he does Tony. McGee frowns and continues to type his report as he listens to Tony's faint snickering. "That goes for you too, DiNozzo." Tony's snickering stops and his back straightens in his chair. "Yours is at the end of the week."

"Wait--me?" Tony plucks at his shirt with his two fingers. "I'm as ace as…the ones that come with a deck of cards. There's no reason to evaluate my performance--" He snaps his neck and looks to McGee. "That wasn't an invitation for a joke." He glares as McGee tries to hide the grin on his face. "Why boss?"

"Mandatory." Gibbs is breaking from his report to check his email. "McGee's got one, too."

"When?" McGee handles it better.

"One week from today."

"How come I'm first?!" Tony's nerves are on slight edge.

"Because ace's are first." McGee offers.

"He's right, DiNozzo." Gibbs adds while closing his email and returning to his report. "Besides, nice guys finish last."

Tony knits his eyebrows in confusion. Looking to McGee he can see the reflection of his own expression.

While polishing a sentence in his report, Gibbs smirks to himself as he watches his Agents from the corner of his eye.


	2. As They Are

**Author's Note:** Hey there everyone. I will certainly do my best in updating as much and as quickly as a I can. Also, thank you for the reviews, I hope things are interesting so far.**-Geek**

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**Chapter 2: As They Are**

The overpowering blare of metal music shakes the inside of Abby Sciuto's science lab. Just another day in the land of darkness with the most-peppy member of Team Gibbs--since the second departure of a nameless team member.

* * *

'Nameless' was in fact the name Abby used religiously whenever discussions formed around questions having to do with Ziva. Her opinion had become her way of dealing with the loss. Her opinion had been forced past her lips on every occasion even if the conversation at hand had nothing to do with Ziva.

There had been plenty of times where Gibbs had to get her back on track; her supply of information for a case had turned into an angry tirade. Abby was acting unprofessionally, but never did a team member actually inform her of her behavior.

* * *

McGee can see it in his walk. The confident swagger made any doubts that might have taken residence inside the squad prior to Tony's scheduled evaluation, concrete.

"It went well." McGee pushes himself away from his desk and turns his swivel chair in the direction of Tony's desk.

"Not only did it go well…" He wiggles his cell phone, "But I've got myself a delicious evening ahead of me."

McGee's eyes harden a bit, but Gibbs enters the squad room and breaks his focus on Tony.

"You're dating the Evaluator?" Gibbs enters the conversation.

"What--no!" Tony makes a face. "I make it a habit not to date anyone from the Agency."

"So other Agency's are game?" McGee's eyebrows raise.

"No…" Tony is not sure his answer is completely honest, but quickly decides to continue. "I've been invited to a wine tasting."

"I never understood wine." Gibbs' gruff tone is heard from his own desk. "GEAR UP!"

"What's there to understand? It's sophisticated." Tony says matter-of-factly. "Come on boss, you've had to have had wine at least once in your life." His eyes flash dangerously, "Perhaps somewhere romantic--perhaps with someone special?"

A blurry, yet still incredibly vivid of flashback of himself and the Director laughing over dinner claims his senses for five seconds.

Gibbs snatches his weapon and badge out of his desk drawer roughly. Turning to DiNozzo he hardly gives him a full look before making his way to the elevator.

"Why'd you go and do something like that?" McGee is behind Tony; demanding an answer.

Tony shrugs. "What?" He wait's a minute. "Come on Probie, I was just teasing him."

Uncertainty forms on McGee's face, but he does not say another word. Instead he makes his way over to the double doors.

"DINOZZO!" Gibbs yells.

"ON YOUR SIX BOSS!" Tony shouts as he throws his bag over his shoulder and jogs to the already closing elevator doors.

* * *

McGee is stuck with finding any means of evidence while Tony uses the camera to snap both needed and unneeded photographs.

"Focus on the case, DiNozzo." Gibbs warns him for what he feels very well could be the one-millionth time in a year.

"Right." DiNozzo says after he has snapped a picture of Gibbs. "Gonna add you to my photo collection."

"I don't even wanna know." Gibbs leaves his side to follow up with Ducky.

* * *

His sense of humor had always been his way of dealing with a difficult situation, a stressing time, or a realistic nightmare.

Tony DiNozzo was caught inside his own agonizing prison. It was there where he played the man on the side and the man on the outside. He saw visions of bliss and visions of terror. One instant it was Jeanne; the next it was Ziva.

Things were not as they once were in his life. His ability to move on to the next relationship without a second thought, no longer held a reality; it was only a small memory to him now.

Different things were what mattered to him.

* * *

"I hope your finger falls off."

"Now Probie, why treat your favorite partner like that?"

"You are not my favorite." McGee dusts off his knees. "Why do I always have to bag and tag?"

"That's because…" Tony searches his memory. "…Nice guys finish last."

McGee glares at a smirking Tony.

In the distance Tony is snapping photos of birds, trees, dirt, and anything else that has nothing to do with the dead Marine being rolled onto the gurney by Ducky and Palmer.

McGee watches as Gibbs yanks the camera from around DiNozzo's neck, and forms a great big smile. "…fine with me, Tony…"

* * *

Medical Examiner Donald Mallard greets his company with a saddened smile. "Forgive me for my expression, but what you must have went through appears to be awfully dreadful my young lad."

Mr. Jimmy Palmer scrubs his hands inside the sink as he listens to his older partner.

* * *

If anyone felt the swarms of feelings being stifled it had been Ducky. The quietness amongst the team, even on their time off had been agonizingly noticeable, and the nurturer embedded deep within his soul begged to be their sturdy shoulder--had they wanted his attention.

He tried to make clear their need for space as well as their need for comfort, but every single member under the roughed wings of Gibbs had kept their distance--and their silence.

It was like beating a dead horse. Or leading one to a stream in hopes it would take a moment to drink. Like a chicken who lingered and paced the side of the road; looking to the other side, knowing it was there to get to, but eventually staying put as if the stretch of road had been a snake pit.

No one wanted to touch the issue of Ziva leaving. It was a sensitive issue, he whole-heartedly understood, but their ignorance in trying to find her and bring her back appalled him to his very core.

It was as if the entire team did not care for her return. For whatever reason, in their own separate ways, they were grieving the loss of her; as if she had come to the end of her life's expectancy, and was better to be forgotten in her entirety.

The realization to their uncaring nature enraged him because he knew they felt the loss, but they all acted as if they were incapable of finding a way to reach out to her.

And it was his dear friend Jethro, who had bothered him the very most.


	3. Complications

**Author's Note: **Hey guys, hope everyone's doing well--Spring come around for any of ya'll yet? Man I can't wait for the full blast of spring (and summer)--wee, warm weather! Okay--right, back on track--this chapter might seem like the fic is drifting away from Gibbs and Ziva, but the truth is I needed to establish this in order to get around to Gibbs and Ziva. In a way I think it is kind of cool that I am doing it this way because Abby was hardly mentioned in WATT and McGee did not serve an extremely important role in that fic as well.

Still this is very much a Gibbs and Ziva fic--or it is planned to be. Everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen is because of Gibbs and Ziva's incident. I do have things planned and I plan on sticking to them--and getting this chapter out gave me more of a push in that direction.

...and I'm yapping none stop now so let me just shut my trap and let ya'll read.

LATER DAYS--**Geekery**.

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**Chapter 3: Complications**

Today is an average day. The season is nearly Spring. The faint chirping of the nearby birds creates a soothing sound to the non-stop rush of the city.

Inside the Naval building a small specialized team of Agents come together to start their day.

Tim is uncharacteristically chipper this morning as he tastes his intensely sweetened cup of coffee. His attire is more of a dressed-down fashion, yet still slightly high-priced. His facial expression is calm, yet exciting as the twinkle in his eyes catches the rising morning sun from the set of extremely large windows staring back at him.

"…'good' morning…" He sighs; contented, as a bird flies past the window he is looking out of.

With a ding, the double doors push away from each other and out shoots Tony. His mood very dramatic; his work clothes crumpled and wild looking. He finds safety at his desk, completely missing McGee leaving the window and finding his own desk.

As his weapon and badge hit the bottom of the inside of his desk drawer, he suddenly smells the unusualness in the air around him; so he begins to sniff the air until he spots McGee's relaxing state of mind and obvious state of being, resting his back lazily on the back of his desk chair.

"What the hell are you so happy about?" Tony questions.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?"

Tony crinkles his nose as the distaste brought on by McGee's statement begins to settle inside of him.

"I know that look--I am that look." His tone knowingly. "There's something about a girl."

"Leave it alone, Tony."

Tony slams his desk drawer shut and leaves his desk to stand nearer to McGee's desk.

"Is she hot?" He abruptly stops himself. "Wait, is she hot-hot…or is she Gamer Geek kind of hot?"

"Tony--"

"Tall? Short? Blue eyes--green? Blonde hair, brunette--" He glances at Gibbs' desk quickly, "Red-head?"

McGee puts down his cup of coffee and turns to power on his computer.

"What's her personality like?" Tony persists.

"There is no girl, Tony."

Tony's eyes become enlarged, "A guy, then?"

"Like the one you made out with?" McGee smiles sweetly.

Tony grumbles, but does not leave the front of McGee's desk. "What's going on with you?"

"Why do you have to know?"

"…'cause he's DiNozzo." Gibbs enters and interrupts Tony's little 'interrogation', and makes his way to his desk.

"Ah-ha--yes, that is true--I am DiNozzo. Thanks boss." Tony crosses the stretch from McGee's desk to Gibbs' and raises his hand up high. Gibbs sits and stares at him. "Low five more your speed?"

"Does my age have anything to do with that 'stupid' question?" Tony lowers his hand and retreats slightly. "That's what I thought--back to your desk, DiNozzo."

"Where I was just heading, boss!" Tony flees Gibbs' desk as if his tail were on fire.

Another ding introduces the presence of Agent Huntington. With a solid grasp on her position and the team she is within, she still can hardly ease herself into the two roles that occupied her desk before her.

"Jasmine…" Tony drags her name out sexily. "Smokin' hot outfit!"

"I wore this last Thursday."

"It was hot then, too." His grin wide; unmistakable.

"Down, DiNozzo…" Gibbs mutters loud enough for each of his Agents to hear.

"I'm trying, boss." Tony squints, causing his forehead to crease. "I don't know…what's come over me."

"…heard that one before…" McGee mumbles; catching the glare from his slightly confused partner.

Jasmine rounds her desk and takes a seat. She turns her head to Gibbs and tries to read the standard expression on his face--but fails. Tony reads her intentions and smoothes the creases in his forehead before rising from his chair.

"We gonna battle the high seas any time soon?!" Tony swings an invisible pirate sword. "ARRR--ARRR--ARRR?" He swings around McGee as if he is having a negative side effect to medication--though he honestly is illegally and legally drug-free.

"Cut it out, will ya?!" McGee barks; his cherry mood slowly decreasing against his will.

"What about you, boss man?" Tony sticks his invisible sword inside his invisible belt. "Got a little Cap'n Jack Sparrow in ya?!"

The wheels from Gibbs' desk chair roll against the floor as he stands completely straight to stare his hyper Agent in the literal eyes.

"I've got about a smidge of patience left for you--for the entire day." He raises both his eyebrows to give Tony the full effect of his meaning. "Yeah--DiNozzo, a smidge." His eyes are still clear blue, but they seem to be buzzing with a slight annoyance. "Gear up."

"Where to, boss?" McGee asks from behind Tony as his hands fumble with the handle of his desk drawer; his weapons hidden inside.

"Tell ya in the truck." Gibbs tosses the keys to Agent Huntington who nearly misses them.

"What--I can't drive?"

"DINOZZO!" Gibbs barks, and sticks his nose millimeters from Tony's face. "Elevator--now."

McGee swishes past Gibbs and Tony; rushing quickly to the open elevator doors that are being held open by Agent Huntington.

"Yeah…I'm just gonna get going to that cleanly little metal box you call home to your exquisite, unforgettable, and crazy-cool meetings."

Tony feels the sting of a fresh head-slap from his superior.

"I deserved that." His hand begins to rub the prickly feeling that lingers on the back of his head as Gibbs moves away from him.

Tony uses his other hand to grab his weapon, badge, and bag; while Gibbs shouts his name once in a demanding tone.

* * *

His frown begins to deepen as he listens to the faint ticking of his wrist-watch. It is nearly eight in the evening and his special friend has yet to arrive.

This is not a date he is impatiently waiting to begin--this is a reunion of a dear friend he somehow managed to lose in a wiggy translation.

* * *

Abby had no problem letting Gibbs off the hook when it came to his real feelings about Ziva leaving; about anything. He was her knight in shining armor--plain and simple

She wrongly treated the rest of the team as if they were beneath their team leader--her 'Silver Haired Fox'. An attitude from Abby that had shocked Tony and McGee, with McGee taking it the hardest.

He and Abby had dated in the beginning--fell apart to only buzz crushingly around each other without a solid action to propel them back into whatever romantic bliss they could of possibly had.

Abby disapproved of his approval of Ziva's return. This caused bitterness to surface inside him and without a sense of control on his emotions, he told her that she secretly hated Ziva--that she never approved of her; accepted her for whatever reason she chose to keep to herself.

The bitterness in his tone as well as the darkness in his eyes mixed in with the lie that had passed his pout-y lips had thrown her deeper into her conflicting thoughts, and the only way to gain control of them had been lashing out in every which way that she saw fit.

Abby was not a mean person. Abby was the bubbly Goth who depended on a great deal of Caf-Pow intake--while hanging with her second family and the occasional group of nuns--and Team Gibbs knew this.

Sadly their own denial kept them from reaching out to her, and it had been Gibbs and McGee who had felt the error in their ways the very most.

* * *

McGee grows tiresome of waiting and the repetitive ticking of his wrist-watch. Sighing, he stands and makes his way to his home phone. As soon as he dials the first number to Abby's home phone, his cell phone rings.

"Boss?" He asks confusingly into his phone.

"Where are you, McGee?"

"Uh…I'm at home." He rests the palm of his free hand flat against the surface of his computer desk. "…where are you?"

"Abby's."

"Wha--why?" An eerie feeling grabs him in the pit of his stomach.

"She called me." His voice sharp. "Get down here--now."

"Everything alright?" He can hardly speak.

"…for now…"

The heaviness is Gibbs' voice brings a chill to his bones; his infamous gut telling him that Abby is in some sort of trouble. A feeling he tries to rid himself of as he frantically looks for his car keys and rushes through his apartment door.


	4. Trouble

**Chapter 4: Trouble**

McGee walks into the room and is met with a gust of tension that seems to be growing as he inches closer to the others.

Gibbs is facing Abby with such intensity, he is making it extremely hard for her to look him straight in the eyes.

"Not buyin' it Abs." His voice low.

"I'm telling you the truth, Gibbs." Her eyes flicker to his eyes, "…aren't I?"

He smirks at her timid behavior. "No, Abs."

McGee clears his throat; his hands clasped behind his back because he does not know how to address the still-vague situation. Gibbs is here--and he is tending to her. McGee feels there is no possible room for him to even slightly interfere--so he just stands and he just waits for either of them to acknowledge him.

"Who is this guy?"

"He's not a guy…I mean he is a guy--but he's not a guy, like some random guy…guy, but more like a--"

"A boyfriend?"

It is now that Abby locks eyes with McGee over one of Gibbs' broad shoulders. She knows that this connection between them is uncomfortable, yet undeniable for a number of reasons.

McGee knows that he is doing his best to keep his wavering jealousy under complete control.

"…um…yes…" She cringes inwardly at the disapproval she sees in McGee's eyes.

Gibbs touches her hair and she draws her attention back to the man that is literally squatting down in front of her. "…sorry…"

"Don't apologize--"

"It is a sign of weakness." She hugs herself and it sends a clear indication to Gibbs that she needs this type of physical contact.

"Blanket." He indicates to McGee, but as the seconds pass he feels nothing in his hand. "BLANKET, MCGEE--damn it!"

McGee snaps his neck and grabs the article; passing it to Gibbs' awaiting hand, he sets his jaw as if his teeth are grinding against each other.

"…sor--" He clears his throat to stop himself from making the same error Abby did, knowing damn well if he did he would be rewarded harshly by Gibbs, unlike Abby had been rewarded. "…what's going on?"

"…Tell you in a minute…" He finishes wrapping her in a blanket; his hands never stopping as they slightly touch her arms through the blanket.

McGee steps back as he watches their interactions. Deep inside, their closeness begins to unlock doubts he never thought he had. Shaking his head he tries to clear himself of such foolish thoughts; insisting that his in-going and out-going jealousy is the reason for such thoughts.

* * *

Outside, Gibbs meets Tony by his exceedingly maintained car. His face serious, his eyebrows slightly lower than usual. Peering inside the darkened car, he sees Tony reach for pack of gum inside his glove compartment. Straightening his back once more, he sighs into the chilly air before ripping open the driver's side door.

"Oh hey boss--"

Grabbing a hold of Tony by his shoulder; he nearly drags him out of the car and slams the door shut behind him. Tony's jacket just misses getting stuck between the properly hidden latch.

"Um…" His eyes are wide open. "…Abby alright?"

"You--alright, DiNozzo?" He grabs the stick of gum out of his hand and throws it somewhere on the ground. "I'm not that stupid."

"…'course not otherwise you would not be…" Tony shakes his head. "…wait--is this a trick question?"

"IT WASN'T A QUESTION!" He slams Tony's shoulders against his car. "Tell me why I called you here tonight."

Tony hesitates for a moment; the alcohol in his system only partially clouding his judgment. "You told me Abby was in trouble--that she needed our help."

He clears his throat, but Gibbs does not back off.

"…so I got here as fast as I could…" Tony catches sight of McGee's vehicle. "Looks like Agent Huntington is late to this gig."

"Not a gig--DiNozzo." He tone calm, but darker than normal. "…and your ass might as well have stayed right the hell where you were.!" He finally lets go of his Senior Agent. "You've been drinking."

"That a crime?"

"When you're hardly able to feel that your weapon is missing!" Gibbs waves Tony's gun at him. Tony swallows; hard. "What were you thinking?"

"I didn't know…you were gonna call…" He hardly can form a clear, continuous sentence because he is growing tired. "…paperwork…all day…well…'cept for the…" He abruptly stops because he feels a wave of nausea.

Shaking his head, he checks the safety on Tony's weapon, just in case, then pulls out his cell phone to phone McGee. While giving an order to McGee, he rounds the car and deposits Tony's weapon inside his glove compartment.

"Wouldn't…do that if I were…" His cheeks fill with air as he feels his stomach twisting more tightly. "I think I'm gonna--"

Gibbs catches Tony who is heavily leaning against his car. "How much did you have to drink, DiNozzo?" His voice sharp, but calm now.

"Not that…much."

"What the hell's with you, then?" His eyebrows knit as he notices Tony is beginning to sweat. "Where'd you go?"

"…bar downtown…" Tony hears rushing feet against the pavement, "McGee knows."

"McGee--" Gibbs pauses as he shifts Tony's weight more onto the car. Turning around he sees McGee arrive as if on cue. "Where's the bar Tony goes to?"

"…don't know the name…" His eyes grow large as he hears a low Gibbs growl. "…as I should…but I can take you there!" He finishes with a confirmed smile.

Gibbs shakes his head at McGee's unusual carelessness. "Go home--take him with you."

"What's wrong with you, Tony?"

"I'm sick." Tony now pouts.

"He's drunk." Gibbs stops himself from rolling his eyes.

"Can't I take him home, then? And come right back?"

"No--McGee. Take him to your place and stay with him."

"Why?"

"BECAUSE I SAID SO!" He barks.

McGee feels a rush of anger ignite somewhere inside of him, but his common sense tells him to keep his cool.

"We're taking your car." He states more to Tony than to Gibbs.

"You're not driving my car, McGee."

"Yes--I am."

Within seconds Tony is settled as best as he can be inside the passenger seat of his own car. As McGee fixes the driver's seat slightly, he peers out the window and in the direction of Gibbs greeting the now arriving Agent Huntington.

"Huntington's gonna so get on his good side…" He hears Tony's raspy voice from his side. "…she's gonna totally swoop down and pin her mark on him…on this team."

McGee knows Tony is rambling on with nothing, but drunken nonsense.

"There's no room for her, Tony." He looks to his lap quickly as he realizes how cold his words are.

"…sounds like the same thing we all said about Ziva after Kate was mur…died." Tony cringes; even drunk he feels the pain still. "…don't you think?"

"I think…you ought to shut your mouth, Tony."

"…you sound…angry…" Tony pauses for a few minutes. "…we gonna get moving…any time soon?"

Staring out he window, McGee thinks about Abby. "I didn't know Abby was dating someone."

"Neither did I."

"…Suppose this is a repeat of what's already happened with her other ex?"

"I'd like to think Abby learned her lesson."

"Gibbs didn't know, either." Tony hears the change of tone in McGee's voice. "…he didn't approve of it either when she told him."

"Oh, well…" Tony cracks his neck. "…not much that Gibbs can do now…" He shrugs. "…that ship has already set sail."

"He better not hurt her…" McGee's eyes narrow as he starts the engine. "…whoever he is."

"If he does, Gibbs'll sink that ship."

McGee does not take kindly to giving Gibbs the entire credit when it comes to protecting Abby, but he does not know how to correct Tony.

"I better get you on my couch."

"Whatever gets the job done, Probie." Tony's words are slurred and sleepy-like.

With a final look, McGee looks out his window. The bitterness is dueling with his good heart--and he too begins to grow tired.


	5. Arguments

**Chapter 5: Arguments**

His people were those he spent the majority of his time with. Whether on, or rarely off the clock, Special Agent Gibbs used a large amount of time with his team. He took it upon himself to protect them from any outsiders that might want to hurt or kill them.

Unfortunately when it came to their inner-demons, he failed them.

DiNozzo's development of self-hate was growing more apparent each time he stumbled while chewing a piece of gum. It was an instant give-away to his indulgence in drinking, but it never did effect his ability to do his job…

Until recently.

* * *

With Abby upstairs getting ready for bed, Gibbs gathers his materials to work on the tiny wooden toys he has recently taken an interest in. At the very moment the familiar footsteps still his hands on his hand tools, and he turns to face the staircase.

"Get down here DiNozzo."

Sighing, Tony makes his way quickly down the steps while hoping that whatever pain he will experience from Gibbs will be over quickly--so on his way he can go.

"What ya workin' on, boss?" He tries for light conversation, but the silence that answers his question silences him as well.

"We got a problem."

"Yeah I know--Abby and her choice in boyfriends is even more bizarre than my--"

"No--DiNozzo, you're the problem!" He takes his hands off the bundle of hand tools. "Drinking--while on call?"

Tony looks to his feet, but does not even try to say anything. He can feel his shame creeping back into place.

"Abby was in trouble. I called you."

"I--"

"You got there drunk!" Gibbs inhales sharply. "Abby could have been hurt."

Memories flood Tony's mind; about Ziva and about her troubles in the past as well as troubles she can be facing at the very moment.

"Same can be said for Ziva." Tony finally manages to find his strength. "She's somewhere--out there, dead or alive, we don't know!"

"DO NOT CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" The Marine's patience is slipping for the first time in quite some time.

"You can't stop me." Tony takes a step towards Gibbs. "…can ya?"

"Abby is here--Ziva is not."

"So we're supposed to pretend like she doesn't even exist?"

"She could be dead!" Gibbs snaps, but soon realizes the error he has made. "…damn it DiNozzo, you said it. You said she could be dead."

"…and that doesn't bother you?"

"It bothers me." Gibbs does not take kindly to Tony's question. "So does Abby's deranged boyfriend."

"Yeah." Tony's tone is filled with disbelief. "Of course you're going to do everything in your power to help Abby--to be there for her." He crosses his arms over his chest. "You're going to take this personally."

"Kind of hard not to, DiNozzo." His voice low.

"That same determination could have served Ziva well."

"Bullshit, DiNozzo." Gibbs's sharp attitude is right back in place. "You're the one she ran to--all I got was a fucking letter. You could have taken it upon yourself to tell me about it--to give me a fucking clue, but instead you kept it entirely to yourself in fear you'd fuck up a fake relationship you had with an arms dealer's daughter." Gibbs shook his head in misery. "All warning I gave you about the Director completely went through one ear and right out the other."

The mention of his 'relationship' with Jeanne stabs his already bleeding heart.

"I am your team leader--you are to listen to me!" Gibbs wishes he can quickly reach a bottle of bourbon, but he is entirely out of stock.

"Don't let your bitterness over receiving a letter instead of a visitation from Ziva be your reason to talk out of your ass." Tony warns him darkly. "If you ever gave Ziva a real chance after her return, she would have gone to you." He unfolds his arms. "She came to you privately and she told you everything that she failed to tell me--about her father wanting her dead."

"So she played the both of us."

"She didn't play us--she was being selective with us--to protect us." He grows angrier at Gibbs' bitter laugh. "She couldn't just bare her soul to either of us, Gibbs."

"She tell you that, DiNozzo?" The jealously clear in Gibbs' tone.

"I figured it out for myself."

"And what--I am lucky to have you share it with me?" Gibbs fans him away as if he will instantly leave his basement. "I don't need your figuring out, DiNozzo."

"It ought to be top-notch, 'boss'. That's what you are to me--right? My 'boss'. My superior. I listen to you. I do as you want me to. I play your Probie--"

"While you use McGee as your own Probie."

"The chain of command I follow starts from the one at the top." Tony is threading lightly and even he knows it, but his pain pushes him further. "Don't think for a minute I don't sense the connection between you and the Director--"

"That was a long time ago, DiNozzo." Gibbs can feel his muscles going tense.

"…and so it speaks for itself…" Tony smiles; cruelly. "You're jealous."

The wheels in Gibbs head screech to a halt.

"I didn't sleep with Jenny, Gibbs."

Tony's words makes Gibbs shake his head as he wonders if Tony has had a drink or two before he had called him and ordered him to meet him in his basement.

"This isn't about Jenny." Gibbs looks at him finally. "This isn't about who the Director chooses to sleep with. This isn't about me being jealous--which I am 'not'. This is about you getting in way over your head--and fucking up."

"Oh and like you've never fucked up?" Tony laughs openly. "Mr. I-Can't-Keep-Track-Of-How-Many-Redheads-I-Have-Married?" He laughs harder; the sound even more cruel. "You're never going to find another Shannon."

The mention of Shannon's name begins a running reel of endearing memories of the loving family he once had.

"Just because I let on to my past during my accident doesn't give you the right to use it during an attack."

"YOU CALLED ME HERE!" Tony shouts.

"BECAUSE OF LAST NIGHT!"

Tony shuts his eyes to calm himself down. "I get it--I fucked up last night. I really, honestly fucked up--but I apologized." Tony pauses. "People apologize, Gibbs--whether you like it or not--we're all human…even if you have a hard time coming to terms with that." Tony ends quietly.

Gibbs begins an inner battle. One side of him knows Tony is right, but the other wants to be the one in control.

"So…what's next, DiNozzo?"

Tony pulls a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. Opening it, he hangs it out for Gibbs to take and read. When he does, Tony wait's a few moments before speaking.

"What's this?"

"I spoke to Abby--privately, before coming here." He puts his hands on his waist. "Her attacker might have not been her boyfriend." Gibbs quickly looks at him for confirmation. "She's been trying to break it off with this other guy--and what you're reading is a compilation of quick emails he managed to send her from the last several weeks."

"Why didn't she come to us?" He pauses, then asks himself lowly, "…to me?"

Tony hears, but decides it is best not to address it. "She didn't come to any of us because she wanted to handle it by herself. Think about it Gibbs--would any of us want someone handling the joining and breaking of our personal relationships?" Gibbs sighs and slightly nods. "She was just trying to handle things like an adult."

Gibbs knows he can not fault her, but he can not help the need to crush whoever this bastard is either. "Wish I knew about this sooner."

"Let it go." Tony says somewhat kindly because he knows more as to why Abby did not run straight to Gibbs when the problems began, but promised he would never tell him or anyone. "It happened--you can only go from here…'we' can only go from here."

Gibbs catches how Tony said 'we' and agrees completely before pulling out his cell phone and calling McGee. While he is on the phone, Tony contacts Agent Huntington to inform her of in-progress planning for the protection of Abby.

They both end their phone calls at the same time and it is then that Tony hears a familiar voice scream his name.

"TONY!" She nearly falls down the stairs as she rushes to give him a powerful hug.

"Abs!" Gibbs' voice is stern. "When were you gonna tell me about this?" He holds the paper out for her to see. She looks at him sheepishly as she slowly removes her arms from around Tony's neck. "S'okay, Abs…" He offers her a small grin. "I know I've taught you how to handle any situation pretty damn well…" He looks to DiNozzo with meaningful eyes. "…all of you…"

Tony blinks, then slightly nods his head to show that despite everything that is stewing, he accepts the compliment and that is does mean something to him.

Gibbs orders his two team members upstairs to wait for McGee and Huntington while he takes a moment for himself.

* * *

Inside his head, Gibbs remembers a time before; where his team was properly intact and the only important thing missing from his life was the family he had lost so very long ago.

A time where Ziva David was a Liaison Officer for Mossad and for NCIS.

Her intense training and her strength to further her knowledge as an officer of the law--any law, were admirable. When she spoke of her own country it never went forgotten and it never went without any respect. Her interest in the American culture was something to be cherished even with her errors in popular American sayings; which were always tried through care and respect.

Ziva David wanted to learn. She was an unfinished book; empty pages begging for words to be written on. She was her own author while Team Gibbs were her sources; her citations. She absorbed from each of them; her private selection of American customs and Americans--in every sense of the word.

And they each had failed her. They each presented themselves as finished books--stuffed to the literal end with enough words to last them the rest of their lives, because she was Mossad. She was a killer--and they simply did not have the time nor the room to take her culture and her upbringing into any consideration unless they needed to prove her wrong or belittle her.

They were Team Gibbs…an elite group of Special Agents who were in-training to be the best, as was she at one time, except they each had more years within the team. They were already embedded into the foundation--they were the cracks to Gibbs' intimidating tower.

Ziva hadn't even made her way into that single empty crack, then the nightmare happened.

It was true--Ziva Daivd wanted to learn everything; especially how to 'forget' the Americans she had such a pleasure of working closely with.


	6. She Remembers

**Chapter 6: She Remembers**

After taking lives, she felt the evil in her ways by the end of each day. Her mind told her many things as did her beating heart, but she never could find the time to properly listen.

Nothing was real anymore. Everything about her life was fake; even her marriage to Michael made her feel indifferent some of the time. It was nothing he did; it was the fact that she ran away with him and married him because he was the only one she felt could help her in her situation.

She was disgusted with herself. Her decision to marry out of fear of losing her life was too human for her. She was not supposed to fear anything much less feel something as honest as the love Michael felt for her. He was a good friend; a good man. He was there to help her along the way; to protect her. He was her angel, but she hardly felt as deeply as he did because her confusion had consumed her.

Her mind divided between a world that was, a world that could have been, and even a world that is. Her heart portioned the exact same way. Her true feelings were unknown to those around her, but inside she knew why she felt the constant biting inside of her. She knew why she constantly second guessed herself--about everything.

She let the Americans get to her, and on nights where she laid restlessly inside her bed with the familiar man next to her, her mind took her on a trip down memory lane…

* * *

_Shooting out the elevator doors as usual, he is surprised to see Ziva standing before him._

"_Special Agent Gibbs."_

"_Ziva--what are you doing here?"_

"_Looking forward to being a member of your team."_

_

* * *

_

Michael moves in his sleep, but it does not stop her from thinking about _him_.

* * *

He had been quick to shut her down only to start her back up again. She had never minded--his intentions had never been to _use_ her for his own benefit.

He wanted to hate her for Kate's death, and she allowed him to hold that grudge until she realized he was silently crying for a reason to continue--with NCIS, with his own life. He wanted his guilt to go away, but he never would ask for him in doing so.

She crossed the final line. In no time she was properly fixing herself at Kate's desk; putting her things in Kate's drawers, and sharing the energy of Gibbs' desk that sat on the same side of the squad room as hers.

And just as quickly as she got in, she was being thrown out like she held no significance to him…

* * *

_"Pack your shit and leave." _

_"You are firing me? The Director has that power only." _

_"Then get your ass to Shepard's office and tell her you quit. Go on. Get out of here! Get the fuck off my team. Go!"_

_"First thing in the morning." _

* * *

Turning on her side, her fond memories begin to turn badly. She must push them out entirely in order to catch even a wink of sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day, she knows this.

Tomorrow is like every other day.

Tomorrow she will kill again.

The day after she will only kill again…

…And so the saga continues.

* * *

Director Shepard looks outside the large window. It is giving her a pleasant view of everything nature intends to give during the incoming Spring season.

A familiar wind surrounds her. Turning, she sees a fuming Special Agent Gibbs staring her down as if he demands something, anything--from her.

"Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Jethro?"

"Every time I see your face--everything goes wrong." He cuts her like a steel knife. "Ya wanted to see me?"

She does not take kindly to his attack, but decides to let it slide after considering all he must be going through.

"Your Forensic Scientist, Abby Sciuto, is part of your newest case." She takes a seat. "Is there something I should know?"

No."

She waits for him to change his mind, but he does not. "No?"

"Yeah, Jen--no." He clears his throat.

"Is she in any kind of danger?"

"Possibly--we're looking into it." He can feel that familiar itch. It is telling him to leave her office and to return to the case. "We done?"

"No." She looks to an empty chair. "Sit."

"Jen--"

"SIT!" She orders him.

He grunts before placing his rear-end inside the empty chair. He inhales deeply, then holds his breath for a moment before letting it out.

"Stressed?" Her eyebrow raised; her tone sounds amusing.

"What do ya think?!" He growls, as the past hits him full-on like it has so many times before. "You finished fucking my team, Jen?"

Her other eyebrow joins the other.

"Yeah--that's right. I said fucking--my team. Ya done fucking my team?" He leans forward; the material of his suit jacket stretching against his back and shoulders. "I'm just a little tired. A little…too…damn…tired."

"Tony hardly had the choice." Her own guilt grabbing at her from within. "He followed an order as he is paid to do."

"You used him."

"You do it all the time!" She grits her teeth.

"Like hell!" Gibbs puts on a set of crazy eyes. "They are my Agents--I only tell them what's good for them."

"You tell them what you need to tell them in order to get the damn job done, Jethro." Her eyes flash with rage. "You take control of them as much as I do. The only difference is I have the authority to do so and you simply take it upon yourself to be your own boss and their boss."

"I'm Team Leader." He feels foolish for stating the obvious.

"You are--but you left at one time." Her tone is trying to become as steady as possible, but there is still a slight angry shake to it. "Tony had to be there for your team."

Gibbs does not want to hear this, but he has no other place to go. Her words remind him and they momentarily paralyze him.

"To pick up the pieces you left unattended to!" She does not care if her words can be heard outside of her office. "He did a damn good job at keeping everyone steady while working cases." She pauses to make sure he is still listening to him. "He was there to lick their wounds--the ones you helped create!" She looks to the side of her and shakes her head. "You can not keep blaming Ziva for this, Jethro."

His eyes grow large as dinner plates. "I DON'T!" He shoots out of his chair and storms over to the front of her desk. "Don't fuck with me, Jen."

"One more word like that out of your mouth and I'm suspending you." She places her hands on her narrow hips. "I don't think you want to have to explain to Abby why you can not assist in the protection of her well being."

He fits his tongue until he thinks he can taste some blood.

"Cool yourself off--and get back to work, Special Agent Gibbs."

He turns to leave, but stops. With his back facing her, he lets go of his throbbing tongue.

"You're only what you think you are, Jen."

"…and what is that supposed to mean, Special Agent Gibbs?"

His mean expressions turns into one full of snark. "You haven't got a clue on what I really think of you." Turning his head to the side, he opens his mouth again. "You'll never get close to my team--again."


	7. Private Matters

**Author's Note:** Hey there guys, hope everyone likes the fic so far. In the next chapter (or the one after that) finally one of the members of the team will be able to reach Ziva--depending on how long the next chapter is. Hope ya'll enjoy this chapter. Later Days--**GEEK** (Sabrina)

**Chapter 7: Private Matters**

He shouldn't have; the team was still incredible weak, especially Abby who had been scared for her life and McGee who had lost a considerable amount of sleep worrying about her. Without a solid break in the case, Gibbs would not allow anyone any down-time. So Tony went to the Director and dealt with her for the third time, despite everything Gibbs had warned him of.

Director Shepard allowed him the time away from the office, while on duty, to go chasing after an ex-team mate. Regardless of her uneasiness, she could not deny the longing in his eyes nor could she ever forgive herself for helping in the process of breaking his delicate heart. Giving him approval was her only way; the least she could do after all the pain she had caused him.

Her only error had been not allowing him to take any other Agent with him as backup. The move was irresponsible, but her mind had been focused on the possibly problems any of his errors, while there, could bring to the entire Agency. It could ruin her position as the Director of NCIS, as well as any position any where in the entire building and the Agency. She worked far too hard to throw it all away for a specialized and determined Agent such as Tony; even for a said friend that had saved her life once before, such as Ziva.

Tony managed to get in and out of her office before the morning sunrise. Her words of courage had been somewhat forced and extremely unlike Gibbs would have offered him, but he could not focus on Gibbs and all the things he could have said.

Gibbs had no idea what Tony's plans had been and in return this made Tony just as irresponsible as the Director herself. Perhaps too many exchanges passed through the tight circle the Director and Tony had created during Gibbs' retirement and his return; they were more in-tune to each others feelings and intentions.

Right under Gibbs' defined nose, Tony DiNozzo went against the grain and purchased a ticket to Tel Aviv with one thought on his mind.

Ziva.

* * *

Abby sits quietly as Gibbs pounds into her with his stern tone of voice. Each word feels like a sharpened nail digging into her flesh.

"I said I was sorry, Gibbs." Her voice is small. "You can't help love…right?"

"This isn't a joke, Abby."

She straightens her back at the intensity in his tone. Still, her fingers come together to occupy her during the lecture _he_ insists she needs.

"Where the hell do you meet these guys?"

"…online?" She sees his angry stare darken. "…no?"

"No?"

"…No…" She sighs. "…okay, yes…but it's not what you think, Gibbs--"

"I don't understand the usage of the internet."

"…I'm not sure you understand the usage of a computer…" She grins, hoping he will catch on to her playfulness and agree to changing the feel of the air around them that seems to be stifling her.

He walks to the opposite end of her lab and then back again. He is pacing, a new habit he has developed since Ziva left for the second time, except only Abby knows of it.

"Computers is the only way we solve cases these days, Gibbs. Computers cut corners like no average human being can do…not even you…" She opens her hands in front of her and mimics an explosion, "BOOM! Computers just explode in front of your eyes…right at the touch of your fingertips…" She begins to grow nervous because he has not stopped pacing. "…Computers are love, Gibbs."

"Damn it, Abby!" He abruptly stops. "I'm not here trying to figure out the significance of computers--I'm here to try and find a reason, any reason, I shouldn't put a tracking device on you so I can monitor what it is you exactly do and who you exactly hang out with when you're outside of this lab."

She frowns. "That's a little creepy, Gibbs…"

"Why can't you pick normal, average, everyday--the damn boy next door, guys?"

"…because they're not exactly all that cute?" She puts her head to the side. "Unless they were you, because you're like the average, everyday, boy next door type of guy…and you're normal too, er…well sometimes…eh…and you are very handsome."

He turns his back on her and begins to pace once again.

"Okay…" She wait's a few more seconds. "Okay, please stop doing that--you're making me nervous as if you're waiting for a bomb to go off."

"Sounds about right."

"Don't joke about things like that Gibbs--there is no bomb in this room."

"I'm the one that's about to go off." His words are said very clearly so she can understand the level of his seriousness. "I want numbers."

"Ya gonna play the lotto?!" Her eyes light up. "Not that I'm…some uber-crazy lotto swinger…but I must say, the Sisters and I sometimes get together for a game of bingo."

He chooses to ignore her. "Numbers of all the guys you hang around with. Boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, male friends…online companions--anything, I want it all." He stops pacing and looks at her. "On my next in the next ten minutes."

"Whoa--Gibbs, ten minutes? I'm going to at least need twenty."

"Fifteen--no later." He warns her before fleeing her lab.

* * *

McGee sits quietly in Gibbs' bland living room. It is an odd setting for him only because he never once thought about the rest of the rooms Gibbs' home has. Still, he feels the tiredness in his bones as he sinks further into his living room couch. He can rest for a few moments…

* * *

Ducky looks ashamedly towards Gibbs who is working open the cap of a new bottle of bourbon.

"I'm all for sharing." Gibbs alerts his friend, hoping the look on his face will disappear, but the look only deepens. "You come here for any particular reason?"

"Timothy came to me." He flings a look towards the staircase. "Left him upstairs to rest."

Gibbs knits his eyebrows. McGee has been his least expected visitor through all the tiresome mess. "He alright?"

"He'll manage…" He pauses as Gibbs takes his first sip of the darkened poison. "…of course it wouldn't hurt the poor boy if you were there to offer him some advice. He has been on edge since this whole issue with--"

"Abby." Gibbs finishes, then takes another sip from his glass. "I know, Duck."

Gibbs crosses the room and rests his glass at will eventually be the opening of his boat. "I'm no love doctor."

"That you most definitely are not." Ducky sighs. "…but I do wonder if your priorities regulate depending on the person."

"…meaning?" He looks over at him, sand-paper folded and steady in his hand.

"Meaning your delicate behavior towards Abby has not gone overlooked nor does it come as much of a shock considering the team has known for quite sometime how she is your most favorite."

"…your feelings aren't hurt, are they--Duck?" He chuckles.

Ducky can not even find the strength to crack a smile. A few moments pass and Gibbs grows wary of the silence. Looking back to Ducky, he sees how serious he looks.

"…you're trying to tell me that McGee's jealous of the care I show to Abby?"

"Aw, for Pete's sake, Jethro--sometimes I think you can be rather dense." He watches Gibbs' eyebrows lift in slight surprise. "Did it ever cross your mind to have taken such care--such time for Ziva when she was here?"

He turns away from his eldest friend and begins to sand the wood for the first time today. He can feel his shoulders grow heavy as this enormous guilt cloud seems to hang steadily over his silver-y hair.

Ducky notices his reaction, but feels he should continue; even if the evident pain in his friend is agonizing to watch.

"The same can be said for the rest of your team…" He clears his throat. "There is no doubt in my mind that Anthony needs a shoulder of support to help him through the first heartbreak he has ever felt in his entire life--and Timothy, he is no exception. He has taken to your professionalism more than any other member of your team, yet I have never seen you offer him a moment to let out how he truly feels." He takes a step closer. "You know Anthony uses jokes to conceal his pain, but Timothy does not."

"Duck--"

He puts his hand up to continue, "You might think you are able to get away with the denial you show to Jasmine, but you have no right to treat her in that way. Yes, she is new, but she, within a year, has shown her strengths during investigations of some of your toughest cases--"

"Ducky, I don--"

"Not everyone can handle problems the way you can, Jethro." He reminds him easily. "Not everyone on your team has had a strong military training--there are those in your team who honestly can not hide their emotions." He sighs. "Abby shows you these things because you allow it!"

"You yellin' at me?"

"Indeed I am, Jethro!" Ducky takes a few more steps closer to his Marine friend. "The others keep things from you because they insist you could careless."

"That isn't true."

"It is how they feel." Ducky's voice is turning quiet. "Sometimes it would be rather nice if you went the extra mile to help them along…" Ducky sighs, tired already. "You failed Ziva when it comes down to this…do not fail you team…not when there is so much time left."

Grabbing the rest of bourbon inside his glass, he brings it to his lips, but can not find the extra push to let it spill into his mouth and drink what is left. Placing it down on top of a piece of wood, he looks to Ducky.

"Leave him here."

"I do not follow, Jethro."

"McGee--leave him here." He inhales deeply. "I'll talk to him, then bring him home later."

"Wouldn't hurt if you offered him to stay."

"Not while Abby's here." Gibbs becomes protective in an instant. "They still aren't on good terms with each other."

Ducky frowns.

"I know, Duck--I know." Gibbs gives a little shrug. "She blames Ziva for a lot." After he says this, he catches a cold-like look from Ducky. "What?"

"As much as Abby blames Ziva for a lot, the same should be said of you." Ducky shakes his head. "She wants to blame someone--and she is, she will…except she'll never hold a grudge against you."

"You're killin' me, Duck!" Gibbs insists, his voice raising ever-so-slightly. "Either way she's in no position to rethink how she feels--she's got some whacko after her."

Ducky realizes then that no matter how much he feels about the wrongness in his Marine friends ways, there is honestly nothing else left in him to say about it.

"I would like it very much if you would dedicate some of your time to Anthony as well."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Gibbs walks behind his friend slowly as they climb the wooden stairs. "I'll clear my schedule and meet with everyone I know for a little heart-to-heart."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"You're leaving me no choice, Duck."

At the top of the stairs, Ducky turns and embraces Gibbs. Gibbs takes a moment to register what is happening, and then easily pats the older man on the back. "This is how rumors get started."

"I wouldn't worry about that too much, Jethro…" He lets go of the Marine. "If the walls of this basement could talk…my…there would be enough Headlines to grace the face of television for the next fifteen years."

Gibbs looks towards his feet for a moment. As he lifts his gaze to his friend, they brighten with his growing smile.


	8. Private Matters 2

**Chapter 8: Private Matters 2**

McGee opens his eyes lazily while settling himself farther into the cushions of Gibbs' couch. After a few moments he feels the urge to move again, so he opens his eyes slowly once more, and begins to wiggle around. As she shuts his eyes, something lingers on him--something he is unsure of. Taking a moment to yawn quietly, his eye-lids lift for the third time. It is this time he notices a pair of blue eyes staring back at him.

He nearly jumps off the couch while attempting to straighten himself against the comfortable cushions of the couch. "Boss."

"Ma-Gee…" Gibbs is amused at the man taking a break on his couch. "Could I get you anything--warm milk?" His tone half-teasing and half-sincere.

"No thanks…boss." McGee swallows; nervously. "When'd I fall asleep?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." He shrugs. "Ducky left an hour ago…you were out when he was leaving." He shrugs again. "Hour--hour and a half, maybe."

"…maybe…" He exhales the breath he is holding. "I should go."

"Sit. Stay awhile…" Gibbs offers.

"Uh…" He smoothes his tie. "I'm not in any sort of trouble am I?--because I swear to it that Tony played a part in it, too."

"Is that so?"

"…most likely…" His pulls his lips in a bit. "…yes…"

"DiNozzo's the reason for Abby hating you?"

"Abby does not hate me."

Gibbs nods. "You hate her?"

"Of course not!" McGee can hardly stand just being asked that question. "I could never hate Abby."

"Agreed." Gibbs sips from his coffee mug. "…what seems to be the problem?"

"Uh…"

"I'm all ears…" He indicates his freshly cut hair. So short, his ears are undeniable. "…wouldn't hurt to talk about it."

The younger Agents leans back against the couch more stiffly now. Such an unexpected display of kindness from Gibbs makes him uneasy and without a clue on how to respond.

"Why're you being so nice to me?" His words slurred.

"I don't have to be."

"I know…" His forehead creases. "…that's why I'm a little nervous."

Gibbs rolls his eyes to the ceiling, "Aw come on McGee--you're always nervous."

"Am not."

"Are to!" His voice sharp, but his eyes warm. "…just level with me, alright?"

"…about Abby?"

"…'bout anything." Gibbs shrugs while downing the last bit of his coffee. "I'm here to listen."

McGee studies his team leader for quite a while before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Pushing his shoulders back, he stretches his muscles.

"Go." Gibbs says lowly.

"Uh…well…see…" He loosens his tie a little. "Abby's got it out for me ever since Ziva came back. She's miffed I patched things up with Ziva--but why would she even be bothered by something like that?" Gibbs does not answer because he knows McGee isn't finished. "She's acting as if I did her wrong--like I cheated on her. Why the hell shouldn't I have fixed things with Ziva?" Gibbs stares into his empty fireplace. "Now she's got some whack-job after her--some whack-job she's dating, a 'boyfriend'--who we know nothing about." He scoffs. "And she called you of all people the other night when she was nearly attacked by this…bastard…"

"She was scared."

"We had dinner plans!" He insists. "All she had to do was call me--tell me she was scared and while I was getting over there as quickly as I could, I would have phoned you--the rest of the team." He sighs. "…but she didn't and by the time I got there you were barking orders at me--to take DiNozzo to my place so he could sleep it off."

"He wasn't in any condition to do a job."

"So you change my job description and make me the dependable babysitter?" He sounds hurt. "…I wanted to be there for Abby…and you wouldn't let me…Gibbs."

Gibbs knows it is his turn to speak, but he does not know what to say. The issue at hand is something he did not see coming. He had no idea that part of McGee's problem had to do with him.

"She might have thought better of me…all knowledge of my dealings with Ziva completely forgotten…" He looks into the empty fireplace as Gibbs continues to do. "Maybe things would have gone back to normal…well…semi-normal…" He is afraid to pull his gaze from the depths of the darkened opening. "…then again, I probably sound like an idiot…an emotional Probie--all the things Tony teas--"

"No, McGee. You're not." The Marine shakes his head slightly. "There's nothing wrong with feeling the way that you feel." He stops, hoping McGee will say something, but he does not and Gibbs is left to fill the silence. "Abby'll come around, but she needs time…" He sighs. "Took her a little while to set things straight with me…I kept things from her…I kept things from all of you, but I really kept her in the dark…I think we all did at one time or another."

"…she's in the basement…" McGee offers a cheap shot at a reason. "A lot could be missed when you're down there by yourself." Gibbs gives him a look. "…or not…especially with Abby."

A comfortable silence falls between them and the empty fireplace serves as their focal point. Neither making any move to stand up nor speak again for the rest of the night.


	9. Your Word

**Author's Note:** Hey everybody, how is everyone doing? Did Spring weather start rushing in for any of you? I live in Connecticut--and boy the temp was HIGH in the 80's today. I am such a lover of the warm weather...not that anyone cares. I wonder why that is? I'm picky too--I can't stand Spring weather so much, it is the summer I love (though now should be spring temp's, but surprisingly we're said to be 20 degrees higher for this time of the year)--I just love the summer. Maybe because I was born in August? Eh--maybe, maybe not. I was born on the 26th of August so that's like the end of summer, right? Actually more like the end of September, but I guess I always think of the year like I'm back in grade school and high school. I remember moving to the town I grew up in when I turned 9 and on my birthday, I had the first day of school. New town, new school--on my birthday? Yeah...I wasn't exactly happy about that. ANYWAY....WOW I know how to ramble on, don't I? Ya'll are probably like SHUT IT UP ALREADY! ... so I will... but before I go, hope everyone is having at least DECENT weather and if you aren't, I hope you get some nicer weather soon (if you like nice weather, because if you don't, then I won't hope for you)...and enjoy the chapter.

PS: Thanks for the reviews, everyone!

LATER DAYS--**GEEK**

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* * *

  
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**Chapter 9: Your Word**

A small plane carrying cargo arrives on the runway of the airport; the location, Tel Aviv. The air is sticky, clinging to everything--especially natives and tourists.

Inside the plane, Tony DiNozzo is dressed like a tourist, except there is much more flare and sophistication within his apparel and the way he wears it. It is a DiNozzo Family Code--passed down by the generations; an undeniable charm within the entire population of his flashy immediate family, extended family, and so forth. No matter the gender, a DiNozzo is an example of class.

The Pilot knows of Tony's presence, but he does not know who he is or what he is here for. It is not his business to know as much as it is not Tony's business to know what the pilot is carrying inside the large crates surrounding him or what his name is.

Hebrew words are spoken to Tony. He shakes his head slowly side to side indicating he does not understand the language. The Pilot shakes his own head, mutters even more Hebrew, then turns away from Tony.

"Alright--same to you." Tony's tone is sarcastic. "Can you get me out of here now?"

The Pilot shakes his head from side to side, a small grin on his lips, and then leaves the plane.

"Wise guy…" Tony mutters as he searches for the 'Exit' sign and the door that should be just below it.

* * *

A warehouse is near the airport runway. Inside crates are stacked high enough to graze the ceiling. The lights are dim, giving off a soft glow; this makes the humidity in the air extremely noticeable, too.

Tony wipes at his sweaty forehead. The area of his shirt that covers his chest is alright damp. He grunts while looking inside his standard backpack for his mini-pocket fan. In minutes he finds it, gives away a satisfied sigh, but soon frowns when he flicks the switch and the blades refuse to spin. Banging the fan inside the palm of his other hand, he selects a handful of swear words to go with the beat of the object in his hand. Growing even more sweaty, he wipes at his forehead again, then turns the device over to study the back panel and rip it out. Inside he sees no evidence of batteries, then scolds himself for remembering he forgot to pack any in the first place.

"I can't take much more of this heat." He says harshly.

"It isn't so bad."

He turns around quickly to stare the man he has been waiting for since he managed to find his way outside of the cluttered cargo plane..

"Lior?" He looks the man up and down. "…friend of Ziva's?"

"Yes." He gives a slight nod.

"…Special Agent--"

"Shh!" Lior warns; his eyes spitting fire.

"…Anthony DiNozzo…" Tony says lowly while making his way over to where Lior is standing. "Why am I whispering?"

"You mustn't let anyone know you are here--that I am helping you!" He looks over his shoulders for a moment before looking back at Tony. "You did not think I would let an American come here to locate the only living child of the Director of Mossad--did you?" He does not wait for Tony to answer. "I've gone rogue for a reason--my position is as delicate as yours. Our lives…are at risk, Agent DiNozzo."

"I'm well prepared to do my job--to get to Ziva."

"…and getting to her you will, but you have quite a way to go, my friend." He watches Tony's face scrunch in confusion. "There is something I could not tell you--"

"What is it?" Tony begins to feel as if he is being played. "What's you forget to tell me?"

"I didn't forget to tell you anything. I could not tell you this--" He skips a beat. "Ziva is not here." Tony's eyes grow wide with questionable rage. "Let me finish--"

"You better damn well make it a good one--I didn't fly all the way here inside the back of a cargo plane filled with only god knows what only to get here and find out she isn't here!"

"Listen to yourself, Agent DiNozzo. How can Ziva possibly be here--how could she have picked up where she left off? Not here in Tel Aviv--not here with her father." He stuffs a piece of paper into one of Tony's limp hands. "Keep this away from the public eye--do not lose it; keep it safe. When you reach her, dispose of the information--please."

"What is this?" Tony curiously looks at the unfamiliar words that are written clearly on the piece of paper. "I can't read this."

"You will meet a translator once you've made it safely to Hong Kong."

"Hong Kong?!" He cries, then lowers his voice as a slight feeling of embarrassment begins to creep into his face. "Ziva's in Hong Kong--what the hell is she doing there?"

"As of a three weeks ago she is a Sniper for the HKPF."

"Ziva's a Sniper?" He smirks to himself as he thinks about his Team Leader's past. "She alone?"

"With a friend--"

"This friend going to cause any trouble?" Lior shakes his head slightly. "Why am I not too keen about your answer?"

"Michael…this friend…he is very protective of Ziva. He will do anything to anyone…in order to keep her safe."

"Come on, Lior…" He throws his head back to get a hearty chuckle. "Ziva doesn't need protection--if anything others need protection from her." He chuckling when he sees how serious Lior looks. "…Michael's Mossad, isn't he?"

"Was--still is…" He shakes his head. "In some way, we all are."

"You just told me you went rogue."

"I did." He sighs. "You do not understand."

Tony grows curious. "Try me."

"Once Mossad--always Mossad."

"…sounds awfully familiar…" Tony thinks about Gibbs for the second time during the conversation. "There's one particular form of American military that comes to mind…" He shakes off the thought of Gibbs. "I understand."

"Will he try to harm me?" Tony opens his arms to reveal his sweaty clothed body. "I've come without firearms."

"As instructed."

"You're not the only one that requested I be stripped of any protection." He cleared his throat. "Director of NCIS went into a moment of panic over it."

"Now that you are here, I will supply you with backup. Those I select will bring along weapons." He extends his hand; beckoning Tony to shake it. "You will be protected on your journey, Agent DiNozzo. You have my word."

Tony hesitates for a few minutes. Every possible doubt about Lior surfacing from the deep, dark corners of his mind. "…and you have mine."

* * *

Gibbs pounds his fists on top of McGee's desk. A gusts of air pushes past his lips as he tries to control the amount of blood he is allowing to pulse inside of his veins.

McGee swallows nervously behind his computer screen. His fingers are nowhere near his keyboard, in feat Gibbs might reach across and claw at them as a means of getting his frustration out and across.

Above the two Agents, Director Shepard steadies her legs as he walks straight into her secretary's room. Her only wish is that she makes it safely inside her office and is able to drink a fresh, steamy cup of coffee before Gibbs' possible return.

"She's lying." His voice low and strained.

He can feel McGee's nerves all around him, but he does not care. All he wants to do is attack the Director with such a verbal lashing it knocks her completely on her ass--once and for all. He wants her to see what it feels like for be at that angle--looking up at him; at his team--at their pain.

"…what was that…boss?" McGee swallows again.

"She's lying." Gibbs points his angry finger towards the direction of the Director's office. "She's fucking lying--Director of NCIS…_our_ Director…is fucking lying."

"…about Tony?"

"About Tony." Gibbs confirms. "Locate him."

"Now?"

"No--McGee, tomorrow--just so we all can spend the night not knowing just where in the hell is he." He walks around to put his arm around McGee's chair. "Find him."

"Yes, boss--on it." McGee's fingers begin to pound the keys in front of him. "…I'm doing it now."

"Don't tell me--just do it!" Gibbs' voice is urgent.

In a split second McGee notifies Gibbs that he can not find Tony--that his cell phone could possibly be turned off.

"Damn it…" He keeps his arm around McGee's chair. "Tony tell you he was taking a few days off?"

"No, Sir."

"Don't call me, Sir."

"Yes…boss." McGee takes his fingers off the key. "Maybe something came up?"

"The only thing that comes up for Tony is the opposite sex."

"Well maybe we could--"

"Forget it. I'm not wasting the Agency's resources on locating a group of women Tony has had relations with." He shakes his head.

"My thoughts exactly, except I was going in a slightly different angle…" He turns a little to face Gibbs. "Maybe this has to do with Jeanne?"

"He wouldn't be so stupid."

"Tony was in love…nothing stupid about that." McGee offers Tony some support even without him being present. "Could just want to talk to her--alone."

"She wanted to turn him in--blame him for the death of her father."

"She was angry."

"Whatever she was--or is, I've got a better knowledge of Tony." He shakes his head again. "He's too vulnerable to go after her."

"…The last thing we could do is contact his family?"

"Seems unlikely." Gibbs removes his arm from the back of McGee's chair. "Get Agent Huntington. Go to his apartment. See if you guys can find something--anything."

McGee knits his eyebrows at Gibbs' uneasy state.

"You hear me, Ma-Gee?!" Gibbs barks.

"Um, very loud and uh…very clear, boss--but…" He holds his breath for a moment. The piercing of Gibbs' blue eyes are intimidating him. "…why go through all of this so soon? Tony's stepped out on us from time to time before."

"The Director said he requested some time off." He lifts his smooth, yet point-like eyebrows to emphasize his on-coming words. "Tony wouldn't request time off without asking me first."

"Okay, but you're not the one with the power…I mean…you have power over us, but the Director…" McGee bits his lip. "…she's got the power over all of us."

"Tony's got a big mouth. He would have bragged about it for days--weeks, hell, months! We would have known, McGee."

"Maybe the Director put him on another secret mission?"

"She knows better than that." McGee is shocked at the vile behind Gibbs words. His tone so livid. "Damn it McGee, do as I say--get Huntington; get to DiNozzo's place. NOW!"

"On it, boss." McGee grabs his weapon and his badge before rounding his desk.

"TURN HIS PLACE UPSIDE DOWN IF YOU HAVE TO!" Gibbs shouts from the center of the squad room.

Upstairs Director Shepard can almost hear the rumble of his thundering voice; even through all the conversations and actions buzzing around inside the bland and colorful walls of the Naval Criminal Investigative Services building.

…and it makes her stomach twist with fear of what her approval of Tony's time off will create.


	10. The Defiant One

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, here's the new chapter. I would have had it up sooner, but I unexpectedly got sick. I still am, so I apologize for any missed spelling errors and other mistakes. It took me eight hours to get this chapter done because I had to keep stopping to attack my box of tissues and take my medicine. Yeah--so I apologize in advance. Later Days--**Geek**.

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Defiant One**

Huntington slams a drawer to one out of the two nightstands Tony has on each side of his bed. The sound travels into the living room where McGee is trying his best to move Tony's collections of DVDs without damaging the case or the precious discs inside.

"Where the hell can you be, Tony?" He asks himself as he finds himself looking through the same stack of DVDs.

"Nothing." Huntington walks into the living room and shrugs. "I'm calling Gibbs."

"Wait--don't do that. Not yet." He is nearly pleading.

"Isn't it better to get the news to him sooner?"

"…you've been with the team a year and you haven't picked up on the things that make Gibbs happy and the things that piss Gibbs off already?"

She rolls her eyes. "What's your suggestion?"

"We take a better look--if we find nothing, we lug his computer into headquarters. Maybe Abby can find something."

She shrugs again; McGee gives her a satisfied smile.

* * *

A bottom drawer of Tony's desk is open; its contents staring back at Gibbs. His lousy disposition from before has increased causing his stare to darken as it stares back at two things that surprised him moments before.

A gun and a badge. Two of Tony's necessities; two of his responsibilities while on and off the job. Gibbs runs his hand over his face, his insides begin to twist with fear. Wherever Tony is, he might be staring death in the face.

The ding of the elevator diverts Gibbs' eyes, but his gut still focuses on the two objects now staring at him. "What'd you find?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Huntington reports, then lets McGee pass by her carrying Tony's computer. "…except Tony's hard-drive."

"Thought Abby might be able to find something." McGee says while placing it on top of Tony's desk. "Should I go down there now?"

"Take it to Abby, but I've got a hunch where DiNozzo went." Gibbs stands to his feet. "He left his weapon and badge inside his desk. Wherever he went, he was told what not to bring."

The air shifts and Director Shepard makes herself known. She is signing a few sheets of papers for someone by the railings of the upper floor.

"Get it to Abby, now." Gibbs informs his two Agents by giving them a quick look before rushing past them both to meet with the Director for the second time.

"…I sense trouble…" Huntington mutters.

"So do I!" McGee picks up the computer and rushes past her to the back elevators.

Huntington waits until she sees the Director notice Gibbs. Once she sees the Director spinning on her heels and making her way back to her office, Gibbs hot on her tail, she rushes over to the elevator that McGee is holding open with the tip of his boot covered foot.

* * *

Abby scribbles the unknown phone number on the piece of paper as Gibbs passes through her open lab room door.

"Abs, what've you got?"

'Gibbs!" She squishes him to her. "I felt like I haven't seen you in forever!"

"…you saw me this morning…I even drove you here…" He reminds her as he tries to find an opening to breathe. "…let go of me, Abby."

"Right." She removes her arms from around him quickly. "What can I do for you?"

"What'd you find on Tony's computer?"

"Nothing interesting…" She turns from him while frowning. "I figured I was diving into a side of Tony we are well aware, yet we are unaware of…if that makes any sense…." She turns to him. "Does that even sound right?"

"What is it?" His tone urgent.

"A number and not just any number--a phone number." She picks up the paper and holds it up in front of her face. "Look familiar?" She asks from behind the paper.

"No."

"Good--we're not alone." The paper falls from her face and a new frown appears. "McGee told me you found Tony's weapon and badge in his desk."

He watches her frown deepen, so he walks away from her with the sheet of paper.

"Gibbs!" She wails. "What if Tony's hurt or, er, in some sort of trouble or…er…both?" She places two fingers to each side of her head. "Good thoughts. Good thoughts. Nothing, but good thoughts."

"Did you run a trace?"

"Good thoughts. Good thoughts. Good thoughts…" She continues, her voice low.

"Abby!" He stares at her.

"Whoa Gibbs…just bite my head off."

"Where'd this number come from?" He tries again.

"I don't know. I ran a trace, but something seems to be blocking my attempts."

"Where'd you find this number?"

"On Tony's computer--I told you that."

"I know that, but where--was it written down?" He catches her grin. "…'typed' down anywhere?"

"It showed up on his phone line."

"DiNozzo hooked his computer to his phone line?"

"Exactly. It's not exactly the latest thing considering, which would be the super cool and super tech computer program, Skype--but for DiNozzo it's a step up to McGee's level…" She makes a sorrowful face. "…you're going to need to even double your efforts--no, triple your efforts, if you ever want to reach McGee's level."

"I don't." His tone alone certifies his statement. "Why would Tony do this?"

"Whoever he was talking to, this phone number, probably did not have a computer."

"You're sure this can not be traced?" She shrugs. "Tony probably blocked the number…or this person blocked it for him."

"Could this be an international number?"

"No way, Tony go to Mexico or something?" Her eyes light up with hope. "He's probably mixing it up with Franks--aw, how cool would that be?" She frowns. "Aw--I want to go."

"Tony didn't leave the country to go to Mexico--he went looking for Ziva." The truth sound so much clearer now.

At the mention of Ziva, Abby's stomach jumps to her throat.

* * *

Gibbs watches McGee who sits across from him inside the small, private plane the Director offered. It is not much, but again, it is the least she could do in order to fix whatever trouble she helped DiNozzo get into.

He knows the source of McGee's discomfort. It is not that McGee feels as if his presence is misplaced; what it is, is, leaving Abby behind to be protected by someone other than himself.

"She's in good hands." Gibbs looks at him. "The Director and Agent Huntington are keeping their very closest eye on them."

"You've told us not to trust the Director."

"This is different. She won't put Abby in any danger."

"Why is Abby any different?" McGee's eyes burn with hurt. "She's done it to Tony…she's doing it to Tony."

"It's his fault as much as it is hers this time." He corrects his slightly-blinded Agent. "If he was thinking with any amount of common sense, he would have…" He stops when he begins to feel a form of regret. "…he should have come to me first."

"Maybe he thought you wouldn't allow him to do this…allow him to leave and find Ziva."

"You're damn right!" He growls. "There isn't a real good reason to go looking for her--there's nothing we can do to get her back. NCIS doesn't want her--I…" He can feel the intensity in McGee's stare. "…I wouldn't know what to do with her…" He says carefully. "DiNozzo should have left it alone."

McGee keeps his mouth closed as he feels the plane begin to shake.

"I don't like this as much you don't, McGee." Gibbs tries to reason with him. "…but we can't just leave him there--heading to Tel Aviv might be the dumbest and unsafe thing DiNozzo has ever done--"

"I thought you always said that his methods might not have been correct, but they never failed to get the job done."

Gibbs holds his tongue.

"You can't keep going back and forth about this, Gibbs." McGee can feel the heat rising to his neck. His nerves making his stomach jittery. "Are you more angry because Tony walked out on a case, on Abby, to find Ziva…or …" He stops and swallows. "…is it because he finally found the nerve to do what you've been thinking about for the last year?"

McGee studies Gibbs' profile while Gibbs tries to focus on something--anything else than the answer that is being expected from him.

"I won't think any less of you if--"

"Stop."

"Boss, I--"

"MA-GEE!" His loudness adds to the shaking of the plane. "Stop. It means--shut up."

"Right boss, I just think you're--" He can hardly listen to what Gibbs is yelling. "…LYING TO YOURSELF!" He clears his throat as he realizes the shaking has stopped and he just finished yelling at his superior. "…lying to yourself."

"This is a difficult situation." Gibbs admits though he slowly begins to hate himself for the mere fact that Tony did decide quicker than he had. "As you know…as DiNozzo knows…as the damn Director and Abby knows--but talking about it now, here with you, isn't going to solve anything--not in one sitting."

"Boss, I'm not trying to be your shrink--"

"Then shut up, McGee. Just shut up."

McGee sighs, then buttons his lips. He begins to believe that the thoughts he has pushed to the farthest corner of his mind are true about his Team Leader, and because of this conclusion, he mentally salutes one of his partners for taking a leap of faith.

* * *

Inside their home, Ziva regains her focus by cleaning several weapons that litter the table. Michael is on a job for the next two days; his absence provides her with alone time she finds herself desperately needing.

Sometimes Michael crowds her when she wants to be left alone, but she never feels uncomfortable with his proximity. Michael is someone she knows she can trust despite knowing that he once worked closely with her father. She is guilty of the same duty, the same trusting of her father. For her to fault Michael for his actions would make her hypocritical of her own. It is not the worst thing a person could do or feel, but for Ziva it is enough of a reason to add to whatever list she holds on herself consisting of what she hates about herself.

* * *

He stands alone outside of the unfamiliar door thinking about several things all at the same time. Obviously Ziva appears on the path inside his mind since he is hoping to see her face as soon as he knocks on the door in front of him. Randomly he takes into consideration the niceness of the weather; the weather is rather nice opposed to the humid air that greeted him in Tel Aviv a questionable amount of hours before.

Those back home riddle his mind like the bullets that blast through the targets he shoots at when he practices his shooting. They present themselves as large portions of guilt that hang over him like a thunder cloud, but he can not hate himself for taking matters into his own hands. Only some time ago he had taken on the responsibility of a gifted team, and putting aside the pride he took in using his newly given control, he never felt more sure of his position as an Agent.

He had shown everyone he was capable of more; of greatness. Most importantly he showed himself that he served a purpose far beyond Probie's keeper and Gibbs' fall back.

With a boost of confidence he pounds his fist against the door in front of him. In a matter of seconds he can hear steps on the inside. In his heart he wants to believe that the sound those feet are making sound exactly like Ziva's, but in his mind he reminds himself that anyone can be behind the very door he is boring holes into with his hooded stare.

* * *

McGee nearly loses sight of Gibbs as they try their best to blend in with the locals. "Uh, boss--where exactly are we going?"

"We are looking for someone, McGee."

"I know, but I can't help feeling as if someone is watching us."

Gibbs looks upwards as a way to control himself. "No one's got a vendetta against you, McGee--no one here at least."

"What about you?"

A flashback flashes before Gibbs. Ari is pushed back by the bullet that has officially killed him. His body makes a quiet, yet sickening thud as it hits the concrete of his basement floor. He senses Ziva behind him; her weapon smoldering.

McGee stops in his tracks to mimic his, "What is it?"

Gibbs slightly shakes his head as a way to clear it. "Nothing."

"You didn't answer my question." He can hear the uneasiness in McGee's voice.

"No. No one's got it out for me, McGee--'cept for my ex-wives." He lies.

* * *

Michael operates a pay phone as it is the end of his shift. After one solid ring, Lior answers. His voice stern and knowing.

"I take it that he has arrived in Tel Aviv." Michael watches the constant rush of Chinese people. "Has he arrived with anyone?"

"One man--I do not know his name."

"Describe him to me."

"He isn't as graceful as the other." Lior pauses. "…And it is not this Tony that Ziva has spoken of in the past."

"Special Agent Timothy McGee. That is his name." Michael places one hand in his pocket. "Has Tony arrived in Hong Kong yet?"

"Yes."

"Very well then." He loosens the collar of his dress shirt. "Send your men to the Director."

"This goes against everything Ziva wanted."

"Ziva does not know what she wants." His answering for her has become easy for him when she is not around. "One American friend is enough of a visit."

"Without the return of Gibbs, the Director of NCIS will target Mossad."

"What do you care? You aren't working _for _Mossad anymore--you are working _with_ them. One of the treasures of going rogue."

"When together on our mission I promised Ziva I would be a friend to her--"

"Listen to me!" His control has begun to slip. "Director David has always wanted Gibbs dead for the death of his one and only son." He inhales sharply. "If you do not follow through with our plans, I will do my best to make sure you pay for your mistakes."

"My biggest betrayal is to Ziva." Lior says as a means for explaining how he feels.

"She will comes to terms with it soon enough." Michael smiles at a familiar face he sees walking by him. "Tell your men to alert the Director."

"Yes." His voice hushed. "I will call you with further details."

"I will be waiting."

* * *

Tony walks around the apartment with his eyes focusing on the décor. "Nice pad."

"What is a pad?"

"Place. Apartment. Home." He explains while taking an interest in a lamp. "Can I get one of these before I go?"

"Why are you here, Tony?"

He focuses on her now; the décor long forgotten. "How've you been, Ziva?"

"Fine." She mentally kicks herself for letting her voice shake. "And yourself?"

"Miserable." He decides to go with the truthful answer out of the two. "Jeanne and I didn't work out as I had hoped."

"Serves you right. Pretending to be someone you are not never ends well."

He takes her directness straight through his chest. "Really--'cause I'd sure as hell would like for you to tell me how you've got any right saying that to me."

"I did not mean you any harm." She tries to soothe the sting.

"We're one in the same, Ziva." He lays it out for her. "Or is it Zanna?" Her eyes flash with anger. "You can try and pretend like you're not happy to see me, but I'm the closest thing to real you've seen in a long fucking time."

"I did not ask you to come here."

"That doesn't make what I said any lesser true." He proclaims.

"You shouldn't be here."

"What are you hiding?" He probes her for information. "What makes you the Sniper you are?" He nods. "Lior told me everything."

"I wish you wouldn't have used my friend in that way."

"I only did what I had to do in order to find you."

"You've found me. Now what do you plan on doing with me?"

He smirks at her. "That all depends on your current marital status."

"That is not what I meant and you know it, Tony." She looks away from him. "Your need to see me is unknown."

"It's more of a right than it is a need."

"You talk as if I am some sort of main attraction."

"Back home you are." He walks away from her to reach her sink. "Mind if I wash my hands?"

"What has happened back home?" She is nervous that her father might have invaded the states in a hot pursuit for her.

"Other than one of Abby's psycho boyfriends nearly attacking her--"

"Is she alright?"

He reaches for a glass, then searches for a fridge. "Oh yeah--she's got Gibbs and McGee crowding her. I give it a couple more days before they crack the case and everything falls back into normalcy…" He finds a bottle of water and ignores the glass he has ready to use. "…of course normalcy isn't what it used to be…"

"I do not _want_ to hear this, Tony." Her tone full of plea.

"No, but you _need_ to hear this." He comes towards her with his bottle of water still unopened. "What made you think you could just leave us back home? You don't call, you don't write--how are we to know just what the hell's going on in your life?"

"It is unneeded information." She shakes her head to control her anger. "I do not have an obligation to you or anyone from NCIS."

"You haven't really answered my question."

"You've asked me several in the last couple of minutes. How am I supposed to bite my teeth into one of them?"

"Sink."

"What?"

"Sink…your teeth into one of them." He waits for her to speak, but she does not. "Why can't you be happy that I'm here?"

She sees the look in his eyes and begins to wonder what it truly means. "It isn't that I am unhappy to see you, Tony, it is just…difficult."

"You're the only one making it difficult." He finally uncaps his water bottle.

"I have done nothing, but try to make everything as it should be. If it appears to be difficult, it has nothing to do with me."

He chuckles around his water bottle. "That's just like a David."

"You know nothing about my family."

"And you sure as hell don't know a damn thing about mine." He narrows his eyes at her. "A DiNozzo knows how to spot someone who poorly tries to wash their hands clean of their own mistakes--I should know, I am a DiNozzo--"

"…and you certainly have made a number of mistakes."

"Whatever you say to me reflects of me and bounces right back on to you, Ziva." He laughs. "Of course you probably believe in that old saying; sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

"If you do not tell me why you are here, I will take it upon myself to make sure that sticks, stones, and words officially break your bones."

"If I can't return to DC, you're going to have a problem on your hands." He warns her. "So safe your threats for someone that doesn't care about you." He watches her look away from him. "It shouldn't come as any surprise to you how I feel about you."

"Stop this, Tony."

"Why?"

"Because I am married!" She feels her heart pounding in her chest. "…and I've never felt for you in _that_ way." She dares to look at him again. "It would have never worked out between us. You know this."

He swallows. "I'm not going to lie--to say that I never thought about you and I…together in a way that clearly crosses the line as friends, but if you think that my reason for coming here was to sweep you off your feet--to start a relationship with you, something more than friendship, then you're wrong." He sighs. "All I wanted to do was talk to you, Ziva. I just wanted to know how you were doing…to see a friend, as a friend." He puts the cap back on his water bottle. "Maybe Gibbs had the right idea…maybe poorly ignoring the fact you were gone was the smartest I could do…the smartest thing any of us could do." He turns to grab his bag, his only intention is to leave once and for all.

"Tony--wait!" She rushes over to him. "Please do not leave." He lets go of his bag, but he does not face her. "I react differently now…sometimes I find it hard to trust my reasonable side so I fall back on my unreasonable side." She stops for a breath. "I would like it if you would stay…"

"…can I meet this husband of yours?" His mouth feels funny after asking about her husband.

"Yes, but not now--not tonight."

He turns around to look at her. "Why not now--tonight?"

"He is away doing a job. He will be back in a couple of days." She listens to him laugh. "What is so funny?"

"I never pegged you as the marrying type."

"Are you trying to start another argument?" Inside she feels the usual doubt over her marriage to Michael.

"That all depends if you can still kill me with one of your Mossad training techniques."

"I can."

"Then no--so, dinner?"

For the first time in a while, Ziva smiles warmly at the familiar man in front of her.


	11. Left For Dead

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, still sick. Results came back negative even from the out-of-office lab so this clearly was and is a bad round with allergies. Ugh--I don't know why now, that I am older, I have to deal with allergies. I never did as a kid. Anyway, enough about me. I hope nobody minds the mixture within this chapter--and sorry if the title screams terror. I felt like changing it every so often, but then I figured--what the hell, let me just leave it to what it is. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter and by all means, if you have time, let me know what you think. I really dig getting reviews (as I'm sure we all do). Later Days--**Geek**.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Left For Dead**

The elegant walls of the estate shake with every heavy thump that came from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Abby's music will not let up for anything in the world because her nerves are on edge, and her yearning to feel Gibbs near is being ignored by the actual fact that he literally is not able to be close to her.

Inside the den, Director Shepard sits with Agent Huntington; her nerves on edge. She has not been able to reach Gibbs or McGee for the last hour.

"They might be in a bad spot." Jasmine tries to calm the tension in the room. "Things like this happen all the time."

"If he were with DiNozzo I would find myself understanding something like a lost connection--but he is with McGee."

"McGee's the best at what he does--his background in Computer Forensics goes a really long way…I wouldn't worry so much, Director. McGee will get them both back on the map…so to speak, in no time."

The Director looks down at her desk, a heavy sigh wanting to come out of her. She holds her breath when she hears another thump from the upstairs.

"If she breaks anything in that room I am billing Gibbs."

Jasmine smiles in reply as the Director trties to find comfort in her usually comfortable desk chair. In seconds she realizes that until she hears back from Gibbs, she will not find comfort.

A sigh escapes her, drawing attention from Huntington. The Director smiles sheepishly, indicating a silent apology.

"This is a nice place you got here, Director."

Director Shepard smiles at Huntington's obvious liking to her home. It is something in the way her eyes wander around that reminds her of Tony.

"Abby sure has a nice place to hide out in."

"She'd prefer Gibbs' basement." She snorts. "…there's a lot about Abby that prefers Gibbs."

"I've learned through the rest of the team that she is his favorite."

She smirks, "That's one of the best lessons the team could ever teach you."

"Noted." Jasmine studies the liquor cabinet. "Do I detect bourbon?

"A few bottles." She can not help, but smile at the glimpse of Gibbs' face that passes through her mind. "In stock just in case a _friend_ drops by."

"Any friend?"

"Any friend _not _on the job…" Her tone warning. "Maybe sometime, Agent Huntington. For now our senses should be clear…for Abby's sake…" The sinking feeling in her stomach begins to grow. "…and for the rest of the team…wherever they may be."

* * *

He finds it hard to open his eyes even though the room is only being lit by a single bulb flickering somewhere to the far left of him. A buzzing and zapping noise registers in his mind as mosquito's, or other forms of bugs trying to get as close to the warmth of the bulb as possible.

A grunt escapes him as he tries to sit up against the wall. He stays slouched; his back nearly slipping off the wall. It makes him feel miserable. A sharp pain is digging into the lower areas of his back every few minutes.

He tries to use his hand to sooth the pain, but he finds his hand to be weak. His brow furrows; eyes still closed, and he tries to use his other hand--the same weakness there. He tries to take a deep breath, but the sharp pain in his back shoots up through his side and straight into his ribcage. A hoarse cry escapes him as he tries to find enough strength throughout his whole body to keep himself in this very position without moving.

He begins to hear noises; material being dragged across the floor and then there is a quick intake of air.

"…McGee?" He tries to open his eyes, but they will not open. He uses his tired hands to touch his eyelids, wondering if they are completely swollen shut. "…that you…McGee?"

"…yeah…"

"Can you see me?"

"I haven't tried to open my eyes yet."

"Do it." The room falls completely silent. "Did you do it?"

"I'm trying…" He hears a heavy sigh. "I can't, boss."

"Do they hurt?"

"No…they don't feel swollen either."

Gibbs shakes his head. "We should feel something."

"Maybe they gave us something to numb the pain."

Gibbs shakes his head again. "Then we're going to feel a whole lot worse in a few hours." Another sharp pain hits him square in the ribs.

"What's the matter?"

"…hang on…" He holds his breath, waiting for the pain to cease. "…your ribs alright?"

"I think so…" McGee feels around his body. "…I think the rest of me is okay too, boss…"

Silence fills the room. The damp air creates an undeniable musk. The mildew is being unseen by the two people trying to determine their conditions and whereabouts.

"…boss?"

"Yeah, McGee…that's good…that's real good…" Gibbs inhales midway knowing that a full intake of breath will cause him another round of striking pain to his ribcage.

"…you alright, boss?" He feels his senses heighten as his nerves system shifts into the next gear. "…anything I can do for you?"

"Fine, Mcgee. I'm…" Another moment of pain stops him mid-sentence.

"BOSS!"

"…don't strain your voice, McGee…" Gibbs slouches against the wall effortlessly. "…just relax."

McGee sighs heavily. "What good is it to relax when no one knows where we are?" He rubs his hands over his face. "…we don't even know where we are…"

"You suddenly starting to think this was a bad idea, Ma-Gee?!" Gibbs physical pain making him angrier by the minute.

"No, Sir!" McGee straights his back against the wall.

"Don't call me Sir." He says through a slightly opened mouth. "…and don't give up on me already."

"I won't."

"Good."

Inside his mind, a million images of Abby, with her chipper smile and her hyper-animated body language, begin to play in a never-ending reel.

"Don't go there, McGee."

He turns his neck towards where he assumes Gibbs is, "Huh?"

"Don't. Go. There…" He pauses for a moment. "…I've been there…plenty of times…and right now doesn't call for one of those times."

"What if we never get out of here?"

"That kind of thinking won't get you anywhere in life."

McGee turns his head away from his boss and tries to open his eyes once again--nothing happens. "How did Tony get past this?"

"Who says he did?"

"…my gut…" McGee finishes easily; almost afraid of what following his own gut might lead him.

Gibbs sighs; his voice off balance and shaking slightly.

"…mine, too…"

* * *

Tony eyes his Risotto questionably. Ziva notices this, but she does not make an effort to ask any him questions. Instead she focuses on the steak in front of her.

"…I'm not sure this is exactly kosher."

"That it is not." Tony sharply looks at her. "What?"

"If this food isn't proper then what's it doing in front of me?"

"Kosher does not mean proper."

"Okay so proper is too much of an elegant word, but it sure as hell isn't acceptable."

"It is under Jewish Law."

"…so?" He knits his eyebrows. "I'm not Jewish."

"Neither am I."

"…well you're closer to it than I'll ever be."

"That does not make me Jewish, Tony." She cuts into her steak. "Are you going to watch me eat the rest of the evening?"

"That depends…" He puts his fork into the Risotto. "…something is telling me to stop right here at this point in time."

Ziva drops her fork. "What is the matter with you, Tony? You wanted Risotto so we ordered Risotto." She picks her fork up in a fashion that clearly looks like one of her many killing tactics. "EAT!"

"Alright, alright…crazy ninja chick!" He stuffs a fork full of Risotto in his mouth, chews, then swallows. "Wow--not bad."

"Why would you think it would be bad?"

"Italian food in China is questionable."

"How so?"

"…Uh--because this isn't Italy."

"I've seen a million American, such as yourself, eat plates upon plates of Italian food right in America."

"That's different."

"…no it isn't." She slows her chewing and waits for him to continue.

"Yes it is. America has Little Italy--not only that, but we have China Town, too."

"China Town is in Singapore."

He feels stumped, but he also feels he must prove her wrong. "Singapore isn't a country."

"It's a State."

"That doesn't make it a country." His forehead creases, "And you're wrong, it is not a state. It is an Island State somewhere…on some Peninsula."

"Not 'some Peninsula'…on the Malaysian one."

"Who cares it's not like you know the exact location--"

"On the southern tip of the Malaysia Peninsula."

His makes a scowled face, "Well…apparently you've got enough time on your hands to study heaps upon heaps of history books and world maps."

Her eyes light with amusement at his displeasure.

"Next time I come to visit I'll make sure I bury my nose into a ton of books instead of keeping my both eyes on beautiful flight attendants before the plane lands."

He notices how serious she has gotten and he wonders if it is something he said or if it is something she is thinking all of her own.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"I do not have any American money."

He chuckles at her usualness. "It's an American saying, Ziva…it means, I'd sure like to know what's going around that head of yours."

"Do you suppose there will be a next time, Tony?"

Her blunt question even chills his Risotto. Leaning back in his chair, he tries to find a witty comeback, but fails.

"It is a logical question, no?"

"Logical, sure…" He clears his throat. "Appropriate…not quite."

"How so?"

"We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves…don't ruin it with what if's and doubts."

"I apologize if my usualness is making you uncomfortable, but this is who I am, Tony. I have to live my life wondering if I will see the people I care for ever again. I have to treat every moment as if it is our last--"

"Slow down, Ziva…" He places a napkin over his full plate of Risotto. "You've killed my appetite."

"Isn't there anything you take seriously?"

"Do you really need for me to answer that?" He has become annoyed. "Don't leave me with the impression that you're battling through each day of your life--like I can deal with that."

"I assumed you've grown."

"I have!" He feels such resentment to her statement. "Don't worry about what I've achieved while you've been gone." He knows his words hit her straight forward as he sees her now put her napkin down over her own plate. "…but don't let me ruin your appetite."

She does not like the way the coversation has shifted, so she stands with her plate and orders him to clean his own.

"We going to go through the rest of the night like this?"

"No." She begins to see the meaning behind his reasoning. "We'll go out."

"I'm not sure I packed for such an occasion…" He breaks into a sheepish grin. "Okay, I might have packed a few items that are perfect for a night out on the Hong Kong town."

"Be ready in ten minutes."

"…I'll try, but this change of climate has got my hair doing all sorts of wicked things on its own…" He pats his head, smiling as he watches her burst into a full-fledged smile. "Why Ms. David, I do believe this is the happiest I've seen you in quite sometime…"

"Your trip would not be complete if I did not put on a show for you."

"Ohh…care to let me in on the upcoming surprises?" He rubs his hands together. "You know how much I love details…"

"Maybe after you've finished, how do they say? Dolling yourself up, Tony."

His face grows serious as she leaves him, laughing her way to her closet.


	12. Boiling Point

**Chapter 12: Boiling Point**

Silence settles around the two bodies that occupy the sitting quarters of the apartment. His legs tired, unlike hers, from walking through the crowded streets of Hong Kong.

"I never thought going out could be considered a work out." He brings one leg to his chest to flex his their muscles. He hears a crack, then winces. "Yeah…that's going to hurt in the morning."

"What is?" She asks as she rubs a cloth against one of her weapons.

"Everything, actually." He stifles a yawn. The jetlag is beginning to take a toll on his body.

"I could walk on your back."

"Yeah--I'll pass." He says quickly; fear rising in the bit of his stomach.

"It will do you more good than you know."

"My back isn't the issue." He reaches for one of her weapons, then changes his mind.

"That is wise of you, Tony." She passes him a look. "Your prints on my weapon would not be a good thing in case I ever misplaced it."

"A trained Mossad leaving evidence of their existence?" He huffs. "Yeah--not going to waste much of my energy on that thought."

"I am not Mossad anymore, Tony…" She tries her best to keep her sudden feeling of uneasiness at bay. "I am dead to them."

He looks to her with eyes that seem to be full of life despite his tired state of mind. He clears his throat and looks away from her and what she is doing.

"Something the matter, Tony?"

"It's nothing." He keeps his gaze fixed on the décor of her apartment. "I still get a lamp to take back with me, correct?"

"If they'll pass it through customs I do not see why not."

"They better." He flicks his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. "Think it'll go with my apartment back home?"

"Definitely not." She snorts. "I am not sure very much can go with your apartment."

"You're not exactly an interior decorator."

"No argument there." She remembers her last American apartment. The place reeked of the ins and outs of Trent, the CIA, and all the rest of her dirtiness.

He can sense she is thinking of something or someone, but he can not pin-point the exactness of either.

"Ever play twenty questions?"

"No."

"Truth or Dare?"

"No."

"…Spin the Bottle?"

"…I do not think so however there has been a time that I can remember where I have spun a bottle. It was long ago--I was young."

He takes this information and uses it to form his next question. "How young?"

"I am not sure I know the terms in American."

"Were you old enough to smoke, drink--drive?"

"I would assume so…" She thinks for a solid moment. "I remember trying these three things long before the majority of American's did."

"You were such a rebel."

"What is a rebel?"

"An outlaw."

"…am I to believe you are insisting I was once a cowgirl?" He grins, causing her to make a crease in her forehead. "What is it?"

"I really need to take you camping sometime--or to a ballgame, hell--even an All-American cookout. Anything…to get you adjusted to American life."

"I am no longer in America, Tony."

"This could all be very temporary." He sounds confident though the decision was and is never meant to be his own.

"I am afraid this is the rest of my life."

"Don't be so melodramatic."

"I am not sure what melodramatic means, but I assure you that my residence here in Hong Kong is a lasting one." She reaches for another piece of one of her weapons. "I have found a life here."

"You weren't give much choice." He looks to her for confirmation of his bold statement, but she does not give him one. She hardly looks at him though his eyes beg her to turn in his direction. "Be honest with me, Ziva--"

"I will not open myself to you, Tony. This is not what your visit was for." She feels the pressure of his stare. "This is not any of your business!"

"Did you want to come here or did this husband of yours bring you here?" He sees her becoming agitated. "Come on Ziva, I've known you long enough to know you've got a set of steel ones to let some guy tell you where to plant your feet."

She swallows, focusing on the object in her hand.

"Ignoring me isn't going to make this go away--it isn't going to make me go away."

"You have one more day here, Tony. You will soon go away."

"Now that I know where you are don't you think I have a great deal of information to tell those back at home?" Her neck snaps to look at him, her eyes full of horror. "I'm not itching to expose the truth about you, but I'll be a fool to believe I won't have questions to answer to when I get back."

"You have the ability to lie."

"Lying has gotten us no where…all of us." He rocks back and forth on the floor for a minute. "You can't see the effect your leaving has on us. You don't understand what it's like to feel the strain everyday."

"I do."

"I find that extremely hard to believe."

"There isn't enough common sense in your mind to realize that I feel it as much as you all do--if not more."

"Then why don't you stop all this bullshit--come back to the states. Try to fix all that you've broken."

Her focus is slipping off of cleaning. His words are sticking her like enlarged tips of needles.

"I am done with this." She tries to stand, but he presses down on her shoulder. "Tony, get away from me."

"Talk to me, Ziva. Tell me what you're thinking--what you're feeling." He feels his head begin to throb. "What the hell are you getting out of all of this run-around? Why can't you put your fucking guard down for one minute to let someone in--to let me in?!"

Her heart pounds in her chest. His words are beginning to bother her more than any other words she has heard for a while now.

"I will hurt you, Tony." She says as steadily as she can. His hand stays on top of her shoulder, but he takes his pressure off. "Please--leave me alone."

"I'll let you go--but I won't leave you alone." He stands with her, following her every move. Crowding her personal space; not caring if he makes her snap. "I'll never understand why you are the way that you are."

"I can say the same for you." She retorts while trying her best to get her weapons in order. "I could never understand your need to be incredibly annoying--so fucking full of yourself. Insanely interested in how many women you could roll around between the sheets with on a weekly basis." She turns to face him now; fire in her eyes. "You are who you choose to be, Tony. That is all that I reminded myself of while having to deal with you--and the fucking way that you are." She takes a step forward. "Whatever became of your relationship with Jeanne happened for a likely reason. Anthony DiNozzo--always ready to do a job, always ending up getting himself completely involved at the sight of a beautiful woman, and then fucking up at the very end." Another step. "Now Tony, do you want to continue this conversation?"

"Let it out, Ziva. All of it." His attitude nothing, but challenging. "You think you can sling rocks at me--knock me down to make yourself feel better about leaving the team--"

"Enough with your obsession with the team. I will not deny what I did learn, but I will also not accept what I know to not be true." Her eyes, still on fire, are growing tired. "I wish you would take things as the way they are--as the way they were meant to be."

"Do you still think about him?" Her words hardly meaning anything to him. "Do you think about him every time you think about us--about the team, do you think about him?"

"Who are you speaking of?"

"Gibbs." She takes a small step backwards, steadying her balance. He knows his has caught her off guard, but this is where he wants her. "All night I touched based on every member of the team you asked about." He puts his hands on his hips. "Not once did you mention Gibbs."

"You had the right to say something about him."

"And now I do not?"

She closes her eyes. "What?"

"If I had the right to say something about him then, I have every right to say something about him now…" He waits for her to open her eyes, but she does not. "…and I will, if you care…to listen."

"It is not needed." She opens her eyes. "It would be a waste of time."

"It's your stubbornness that makes a lot of things appear to be that way; a literal waste of time--when it in fact, it's everything, but that." He places both hands on both of her shoulders. "Why weren't things fixed between the both of you?"

"That is the way things were supposed to be."

"Now you sound as if you've always had the ability to predict the future." He shakes her slightly. "Wake the fuck up, Ziva. Stop the bullshit." He grits his teeth, his patience finally slipping. "I'm not going to run back to tell him that you asked about him if that's what's keeping you from asking me."

"That is not it."

"Then what the fuck is it?!"

"It is…" She trails on to nothingness.

His arms grow tired and he lets his hands slide from her shoulders. "Maybe you're right, Ziva. Maybe…what happened, happened because it was supposed to happen." He feels his asshole tendencies begging to come into play. "You fuck around with our Team Leader--and then shit hit's the fan for the entire team." He scoffs. "Now I'm not sure I blame Abby for being unable to forgive you. Why should any of us have forgiven you--you don't give a shit about us--about the team. You got what you wanted; probably split because it was part of your plan all along. Ya know, being a Liaison for NCIS and Mossad sure had its perks."

The silence is killing him now. Looking at her for another round with her knocks him off his block as he sees her face twist. Tears spill from her eyes as she stands there trying to deal with everything he had just said.

"Don't…think I wanted to go there, Ziva…" He takes a step to reach for her, but she pushes him away so violently. "Ziva--"

"Out, Tony." Her breath is shaking as she tries to stop herself from crying.

"Zi--"

"OUT!!!" She shouts loud enough for passerby's outside on the street can most likely hear.

He backs away slowly, not sure if she is serious. When he sees her clench her jaw, he quickly finds his bags and walks to the door.

"You're going to regret this, Ziva."

Before she can threaten him with violence, he slams the door to the apartment.


	13. The Forgotten

**Author's Note:** Hiya guys, how are we doing on this kind of nippy Sunday afternoon? Things are alright here, just nippy fingers and kind of hungry. Anyway, I hope the fic is going good so far. It'll only be a matter of time before everyone will be back together again. Hopefully brighter days are ahead for the characters, huh? Okay--that's all for now. Hope you will enjoy the chapter. I stepped a bit OOC, but I think considering what is happening...that's kind of alright. I 'hope' it is alright. LATER DAYS--**Geek**.

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Forgotten**

The numbness around their eyes has long passed. Now the swelling can be felt and the pain can not go without feeling.

McGee is in better condition. Though his face is swollen, he is able to open both of his eyes. The feeling is a shift in the positive direction and his unnerving fear has subsided somewhat. Now with his sight he will be able to take a mental picture of their surroundings.

Gibbs on the other hand is not only in need of a way to open his completely swollen shut eyes, but he needs to find an explanation for the weakness in his hands.

As another sigh escapes McGee, it is then that Gibbs begins to see the error in his ways; from the moment he sent Ziva away to the very moment at hand. A decline in his stubbornness could have kept his current partner from enduring pain he had absolutely no reason to experience in his lifetime.

"I gotta say, boss…you're awfully quiet." He looks to the fallen Marine, slumped against a wall that appears to be infested with every form of mold and human decay ever known to mankind. The steam of light that is able to pass through the dingy, cloudy window is the their only source of light now that the single bulb in the room had blown an unsure amount of time ago. "…anything you think I should be doing now?"

"I don't know, McGee." His voice heavy; almost annoyed, too. "Maybe you can find a way to explain the issue I seem to be having with my hands."

His eyes travel to his boss's hands; they are on the side of his slumping form.

"…never experienced something like this…" The self-hate begins to form inside the older man. "…no way for me to even begin to know how to fix this."

"Sounds like you're giving up on me, boss." McGee holds his breath, afraid that he might have spoken the truth.

"Yeah--McGee--that so?" His smirk is forced do to pain, but is sincerely intended.

McGee catches his attempt and smiles weakly though he knows it can not be seen.

"Botulism."

"What?" Gibbs tries his best to sit up more.

"You could have botulism." McGee swallows, unsure if he should continue.

"What the hell gives you that impression?"

"Weakness." He swallows again. "The weakness in your hands can be caused from botulism."

"This didn't just come about."

"No, but you could have been injected with something--something containing bacterium Clostridium Botulinum."

Gibbs stops moving, still unable to properly position his back flat against the wall.

"What?"

"Clos--"

"I got that part, McGee--but what is it--where'd it come from?"

"My first guess would be a form of beauty treatment."

"…I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear what I know I heard."

"…not that you would need one…" He sighs. "This bacter--" He hears a loud sigh. "…this _stuff _you might have been injected with is the same substance that is found in Botox."

"You're trying to tell me that somebody decided to inject my hands with Botox?" He can not help it and so he chuckles, despite his pain and his surroundings. "Now you've got me thinking I took DiNozzo along with me."

"They could have injected you with this toxin anywhere--perhaps our faces, actually." McGee shrugs. "It could have something to do with the numbness we felt although I am not all that sure."

"Come on, McGee--this isn't a likely form of torture."

"There are side effects to this sort of injection. Some can result in problems breathing and swallowing--in some cases it can cause a loss in strength and muscles anywhere in the body."

Gibbs clears his throat. "You sure you're not reading from a pamphlet?"

McGee waits for Gibbs to process this information before continuing.

"…this could be the reason you feel a sudden weakness in your hands."

"People get themselves injected with this shit everyday--"

"It doesn't mean it makes it any more safer."

"Okay fine, McGee--when does this wear off?"

"I don't know." McGee sighs tiredly. "Chances are you weren't really injected with Botox."

"Then why bring it up in the first place, McGee?" Gibbs' voice is tired as well.

"…to give you an example…the real issue lies in the amount of Clostridium Botulinum you could have been injected with."

"Meaning?"

"…meaning if you weren't given this injection in small doses, it can be toxic."

His head falls back against the wall. The small impact makes a light thud echo inside the room. "…and millions of people inject themselves with this shit everyday…" He sighs. "…people never seize to amaze me."

"I wouldn't worry about what you could already have in your system, boss."

"Then what the hell should I worry about, McGee?"

"…how much more of this BC they have…left to give…"

If Gibbs had been able to open his eyes, they would have shut at the very moment.

"…we've got to get out of here, boss--they'll come back for us. They'll…" A shaky breath escapes the younger Agent. "…I--"

"Easy, McGee." His mind races to find something comforting to say. "…just take it easy."

"Yeah--um, I'm having a hard time doing that…" He begins to sweaty profusely.

"Cracking up's not gonna do you any good!" He snaps. "Man up, McGee!"

McGee holds his breath as he wipes sweat from his brow. He soon exhales slowly and wipes his brow again.

Gibbs inhales deeply, forgetting about his rib, then exhales quickly in an episode of pain. He waits to hear more from McGee, but he is only met with silence.

"McGee…" He feels unsure about what he wants to say.

"Don't bother, Gibbs." McGee knows what he can not say. "…back in DC I was thinking about things…about why we were coming to Tel Aviv in the first place. He laughs cruelly. "As I packed my bag I kept wondering why I had to be the one to come along and it was then I realized--there wasn't anybody else." He looks at his boss. "If Tony had remained in DC--if he hadn't went against the chain of command, he would have been right here with you--right here, right now…" He shrugs. "…and just maybe we wouldn't be stuck in this situation."

"Feeling bad for yourself, McGee?" His tone sarcastic.

"Just saying how I feel, Gibbs." McGee looks away from him. "…it never hurts to be yourself."

"Better not be implying something negative about the way I choose to react to situations." He is becoming angry. "…and don't think just because DiNozzo isn't here, he's somewhere he should be."

"He's probably dipping into his retirement fund as we speak!" McGee retorts.

"He might have ran into trouble."

"Maybe his trouble was deserved!"

"OH YEAH?!"

"YEAH!" McGee hollers. "And maybe…maybe I'm just fucking sick and tired of picking up Tony's slack. Maybe I've just had enough of being shoved to the back of the line until I'm needed."

"You pulling yourself out of my team?!" His teeth grit inside his mouth.

"I'm just telling you how I feel."

"Bullshit! You pick a time like this to tell me this?!" He stomps one of his feet against the cold, cement floor. "You're fucking scared out of your wits you're talking completely out of your ass, McGee!"

"Then don't listen to me!"

Quick rustling outside turns their attention away from each other. In a split second the door, bolted from the outside, unlocks and the cloudy skies of an oncoming storm greets McGee.

"Who's there, McGee?" Gibbs is frantic for a need to see.

"…I don't know…" McGee braces himself. "Who are you?" He asks to the first shadow of the man he sees.

The shadow only laughs as a response.


	14. What She Left Behind

**Chapter 14: What She Left Behind**

Once upon a time there lived a Secret Service Agent by the name of Caitlin Todd. With her training she managed to complete a case while partnering with Team Gibbs. It was there that Gibbs realized what a superb addition to the team she would be, and he recruited her.

Her team called her by her nickname; Kate. A neutral name that went well with her stereotypical Americanized being. She could pass for the gal next door until she reached for her weapon--then all bets were off.

Her past showed traces of Catholic schooling, but pure she was not. This made her human, this made her real, and unfortunately, this made her more appealing to her Italian partner.

Artistically she appealed to Abby, but it was true friendship that kept them close together. Their friendship was known because if it had not been then she would not have taken Abby's advice about getting herself a tattoo; nor would their outings to a weekend spa go unnoticed by the team, especially Gibbs who had informed DiNozzo in his last attempt to grab his full attention for a case.

Unusually, she became a friend to Gibbs. Perhaps his closest within the team if one would exclude his older friend, Ducky and his younger, more eccentric friend, Abby. It had been unusual because Gibbs kept to himself, even his reoccurring wives hardly were able to achieve success in grabbing his attention. Gibbs had been without friends; a loner.

She had been there to unlock parts to him that were unfamiliar to the team, even to Abby. Whether it had been a case where his goal was to purposely fall into a flirting match with a could-be suspect in the presence of her or if it were the little moments where Tony tried his best to make her feel foolish for sleeping with her weapon only to realize Gibbs took pride in her nightly routine; never once taking finding it laughable.

Sadly, Kate died at the hands of the team; a solid shot from Ari was all it took. When it happened everyone more or less wanted to blame each other. When a minimal amount of time had passed, everyone wanted to blame Ziva for Kate's death--especially Gibbs. It had been far more easier to take it out on the newbie rather than self-destruct, but no matter how much he succeeded and how much Ziva hit him full-on with her own pain of losing someone close to her, he could never rid himself of the guilt.

Kate died at the hands of the team, right there with her prying partner, and right there with her protective Team Leader. He had failed her, his friend--his possibly could have been…

Times were simple with Kate. Her presence was something of the norm. She was identifiable because she was a fitting reoccurrence on each day she appeared inside the squad room. Never was she intolerable, never was she feared. Even without full knowledge of what she did during her none-working hours, a mere thought of what she could do with her time away from the office was never mysterious.

Kate had set the team at ease, but still, naturally, her habits did not go unnoticed by her team. Sometimes a suspects' eyes were the open windows to their souls as far as she was concerned, and just enough of a weakness of hers that nipped at Gibbs' last nerves.

She was a thorny stem with a flowery head. Just enough prick to get her through tough days spent investigating never-ending cases and dealing with flirtatious comments from Tony, and just enough of a floral essence to make each of her squad partners and their Medical Examiner take notice that she was not only of the opposite sex, but that she was indeed a lady.

The team never meant for Ziva to feel unfitting, but their actions were enough to make her realize that her placement within the team had not been accepted. Of course they knew they would sooner or later need a new team member, but it was the later they were all praying for; the well deserved time they earned to grieve the loss of a dear friend and a loyal team member.

Instead they had to recompose themselves, individually, as quickly as possible in order to take on the unwelcome entrance of their newest team member: Mossad Liaison Officer Ziva David.

Officer David came to the team with training they were only familiar with through pick-up conversations and hand-me-down information bundles. Gibbs, as sharp as the former Marine sniper he used to be, had never experienced Mossad training. Ziva was a true Mossad unrealistically from birth, but suitably when one took into consideration her mentality and her reflexes.

She was not superhuman, but she was not your average--and the team knew this. They fed off of her misplacement like it were a game. Gibbs had taken on a habit of reminding her how important it had been to investigate the suspects rather than killing them. Of course it was his duty to train her the best to his knowledge, but his way of doing so had been different from when Kate took residence of the desk nearest to him. Obviously Kate had been American trained, a former Secret Service Agent who held the responsibility to only kill a direct threat to the President of the United States--or any other high-profiled member of the government. Even if the time had presented itself where she would have to react, to take action, she knew of her options.

Her instinct had never been to kill.

Tony had his weekly field day with Ziva; sometimes two field days. She was a cold-blooded ninja assassin more than she was his average team member, and because she was usually paired with him as an order from Gibbs, she had to find each and every way to give Tony a taste of his own medicine. Thankfully, he enjoyed the taste even when his mind would wonder to his late partner. Ziva had been different from Kate, and Tony, more quickly than any other member of the team, was able to not only acknowledge the obviousness of the fact, but to accept it as well.; to take to the newness as if he was her protection and she was his protection when battling the big, bad monsters outside the office.

Once upon a time Caitlin Todd found an addition to her family within a small group of people that each held something special she had only heard of once or twice in her life. It had been these same people that greeted her on the majority of her mornings throughout the hectic and stressful years. It had been these same people that she had to leave behind without ever having a second to say goodbye.

…and once upon a time Ziva David made her way through the steel doors of the elevator, Gibbs' private office, unwilling to let anyone in her path inside--to her way of life and to her private feelings. Fortunately for her, what Kate left behind had been too powerful to ignore. These individuals formed an alliance with a fiery force she could not help, but be scorched by their blaze and be an absorbent of their warmth.

At times she wanted nothing more than to give them back what was rightfully theirs--to find a way to bring Kate back to them, but there were times she hated what had become of things. Kyle Branson took her dependable family away from her--one she never knew of during her days with Mossad, as if she were not worthy of their kindness and their _humanly _reactions to incidents and accidents.

…and there had been so many times since then where she had taken her doubt as an actual fact.

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The loud knocking on the door steers her outside of her cloudy thoughts. Walking away from the window, she makes her way to her apartment door with her weapon already drawn. Her mind begins to question if she should address the visitor in Chinese or in English, but soon there is an even louder knock, almost frantic, and a familiar intake of breath.

"…Tony?"

"Open up, Ziva."

"I would much rather you go away--at least for the rest of the night." She wipes at her still damp eyes. "Please, Tony….take my patience as a sign of goodness."

"Your patience is costing me time."

"Time for what?" She knits her eyebrows, lowering her gun and placing her hand near the door.

"Getting back to Tel Aviv."

"You should not travel back in that fashion…." She opens the door slowly, indicating that her nerves are still somewhat on edge. "…it could be dangerous…"

"Direct orders." His focus is on hers alone, "From Director Shepard." He notices her confusion for the first time since she opened the door. "She can't reach them."

"Who is them, Tony?"

"Gibbs and McGee."

Her mouth falls open a little as panic forms inside her eyes.


	15. No Room For Team Players

**Author's Note: **Hey guys, hope everyone that has been reading still finds a liking for the fic. I haven't heard from anyone from the last two chapters so I hope everyone's okay and that I'm doing a _decent_ job with the fic.** Later Days**--GEEK.

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**Chapter 15: No Room For Team Players**

Ziva had not been pleased in the slightest with Tony, and she made sure that he absorbed the full extent of her discomfort while being stuck inside the back of one of the many planes they had to travel on, in order to get to Tel Aviv.

She the others to be stupid, but not as stupid as Tony. His reason for wanting to see her held no weight as she took note to his selfishness and made sure he knew exactly her opinion on his visitation. Pure foolishness from him; how he ever he thought his departure would go unnoticed was beyond her.

An unaccounted for team mate on Gibbs' team always needed a reason--a damn good one, too. Whether it was general, or rather personal, if he was uninformed to their lack of presence he would take it upon himself and the remaining team members, to develop a strategy to find out their whereabouts and never rest until they found the location of said missing person. That was just the way he operated--the way he expected his counter-parts to operate.

Tony had not literally disappeared, but his wheeling and dealing with the Director of NCIS did enough damage to the entire team. If he thought about his decision before he pounded on the large door of Director Shepard's office a few days prior to his current location, things would be different. Of course, decisions in the life of Anthony DiNozzo were more, rather than less, spontaneous--and completely out of left field. He never played, he never pondered--he only created an idea and he acted on it.

Gibbs would never be able to blame him for requesting time off nor would he be able to put in a request that he should be taken off the team and forced onto the streets outside of NCIS Headquarters, and perhaps somewhere in the back of Tony's mind, he knew this. He knew that he served Gibbs well for all these years and that he owned a great deal of righteousness to be able to do the right thing without having Gibbs be any part of it.

The right thing was laughable because each team member felt that they each had been right about certain things, on certain levels, and at certain times.

When Ziva disregarded the fact she fled from the team, on her own terms, she felt right about her decision to leave them behind in order to find a new life for herself. Naturally her initial thought had been to try and glue the broken pieces back together, but Gibbs left no room for her do so. With each one of her advances, he knocked her backwards one step at a time until they both managed to put their guard down for once.

Once. That's all it was. One time, on a beautiful sunny Spring day looking out at the waterfront. It wasn't enough, but it was so much more than either of them had seen in their future--together; side by side without hatred for one another and severe discomfort with themselves and their thoughts. They had been at peace, if only for a moment--and though their future seemed promising, there hadn't been enough time left in that day or any other day, to really paint a picture.

That seemed about right because the canvas needed for this painting of a picture had already been blackened with dirtiness. Their relationship had went beyond the point of any return, and even if there hadn't been a line defining what was beyond and what was not, their thick heads would keep them apart from one another for as long as they both had their strength.

So right she was for leaving. Right she had been for escaping the states with Michael, only moments before dropping in on Tony and giving him a proper goodbye, and finding just sliver enough of time to tack a quickly written letter to Gibbs' boat. Of course the latter had been constructed poorly on her part, but part of her, then, felt as if she did not owe Gibbs more than ink on a paper.

Gibbs wouldn't let anyone get away with the notion that they had knocked him down; that they left him beaten and defeated--so he didn't. He got to her very core moments after she knocked him flat on his back between her apartment entryway and the outside hallway. Telling her to leave was the only thing his last nerve could make him do to her--to hurt her.

It had only been a few days later when things really started to get to him--to his very core. So in order to deal, bourbon had been his first-class ticket on a trip around a care-free world, completely unlike his own--despite what Ducky had to say about his fixation on the darkened liquor and any other team member that dared to make words with him whenever they found a free moment.

All would have served him right if he ever put his walls down. Gibbs kept his walls up--way, way, way up. Even with the invasion of Hollis, he never allowed her a moment to swarm through his layers and sting him like a bee.

His decision to let Ziva go--to send her back to her country had been a diversion created from an impulse that had come about because of her constant badgering of him--and every waking moment he spent trying to talk to her; trying to get her to understand that he felt just as miserable as she.

All these _decisions_. Decisions made from these _individuals_---about each other caused such an earth-shattering quake. Each individual wanting to take their decisions as the _righteous_ thing to do, because they more or less had this insanely large issue with _pride_--or because their inner-anger needed a subtle way of showing itself, and despite everything that they were taught by each other and others around them, they forgot about all of it in order to please themselves--to better themselves…

…but they failed.

They failed each other, and then they failed themselves.


	16. One Truth Spoken

**Author's Note:** Hey everybody, thanks for the reviews! I was really excited to read them and I'm glad you all say that the fic is still interesting. Hope everyone is enjoying their weekend (and that the weather is nice!), and I hope you enjoy this new chapter. _LATER DAYS--_**GEEK**.

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**Chapter 16: One Truth Spoken**

She fights the urge to blink her eyes; afraid that breaking contact with what is stinging her vision might bring back unwanted memories. The warehouse in-which they stand in is as familiar as the one from her nightmare--from _their_ nightmare. The single bulb that lightly swings from the thin cord is burning her eyes; making them water, but she can not ignore it. In a way it is her only focal point even though Tony continues to crowd her personal space.

"…you remember…don't you?"

"Something's are better left untold."

"Unsaid…" He stiffens at her glare. "…the correct word is unsaid."

"Does it not mean the same thing?"

"No…no, it does, but still…" He shrugs, then forms an easy smile. "It doesn't matter--"

"That it does not." She turns around, the bulb no longer cementing her attention. "The only thing that matters is correcting your mistake."

He falls back from her a little, but it is not due to any physical advancement on her part. Instead her words are the cause for forcing him away.

"As you should, Tony."

"I didn't even say anything."

"I can see it--I can see it in your eyes. You are guilty."

"Now's not the time to play the blame game, Ziva." His eyes darken before he takes a look at the small group of support and protection she formed before they left Hong Kong.

"When would the proper time be, Tony?" She takes a step closer to him this time. "When we find Gibbs and McGee--DEAD?!"

"Hey!" His voice low, but hard and on complete fire. "They made their own decision to come here--well, maybe not McGee since he's like a little puppy--"

"Do not insult McGee, Tony--I am certain there have been times where he has been more of a friend to you than you have been to him in return…" He retreats again. "…I am correct."

"Watch how you play on that idea, Ziva--just watch how you play." He reverses his retreat. "If you think you've got enough gall to stick it to everybody else, then you better damn well have the gall to take a fucking look in the mirror."

She knits her eyebrows, "What is a _gall_?"

He holds his tongue as he feels his anger begin to shift gears, "It's…it's all the nerve you probably do have." He sighs; his face flashing with defeat.

"I am not sure what you want me to say, Tony. I am not sure that I understand."

"Look--forget it, alright?" He washes his face with his sweaty hands. "Let's just find them--and head back."

She feels her mouth opening; wanting to tell him that if they succeed in this private and extremely personal mission of theirs, she very-well could die--be killed by her father who has wanted her remains for quite sometime.

Instead she closes her mouth just as Lior appears inside the warehouse.

"Ziva, forgive me." His tone questionable, but his eyes true.

Tony takes a step back, but does not leave. His intention from the moment they arrived had been to stick as closely as he could to Ziva; for her protection as well as his own.

"What you have done is unforgivable."

"You must understand--"

"I do not." She tries to kill him with her stare even though she knows she has never been able to do such a thing. "You deserve to die."

"Ziva--" Tony interrupts; his tone unsure. "Do you really think that's really a wise choice?"

"It is what it is, Tony--it is only the truth."

"Yeah, but he led me to you."

"He led them to my father."

"As requested--please, Ziva--you must believe me."

"I no longer _believe_."

Tony knows the theme to this conversation now. Whatever Lior will request, Ziva will shut down without a second thought. He knows now that her anger is so extreme, it is blinding whatever rationality she has inside.

"Ziva, give him a chance."

"Stay out of this, Tony!" She pushes past him, stepping on one of his feet and does not even turn to him to show him her acknowledgement. "I must die for your mistake--and you must die for it as well. It is the right thing to do."

Tony opens his mouth, but soon closes it. His words mean nothing to her. Not now, not here.

"Where are they?"

"I do not know." He pauses. "Direc--your father…my men went to him--"

"YOU SENT THEM TO HIM!"

Tony grabs her arm and brings her back, "Killing him now will only set up further back."

"He--" Her emotions begin to blind her senses. The feeling strikes her straight through her heart. "…damn…"

"I had to follow orders." He begins as a way to help keep her focus. Even Lior can see her battling with feelings unspoken. "Michael threatened to change the story. He threatened to tell your father I was the one that helped you get away." He sees her eyes shining back at his. "Michael is far more experienced than I am--"

"My father sent Michael to kill me--he did not. My father wants him dead as much as he wants me."

"No." Lior can not believe her. "Michael is not who is seems to be--he changes sides."

"As I am sure we all do…" She offers a glance to Tony, her expression is one of foolishness and regret. "…some of us…"

"It is much worse--_he_ is much worse." Lior easily takes a step forward, afraid that this action might trigger something inside her to go off.

"What's his beef with Gibbs?" Tony steps in, feeling a bit protective suddenly. "What's he want with him--with McGee?"

"To kill him, Tony." Ziva answers.

"Your father just have it out for any and all Americans…" He stops speaking when she quickly drops her eyes from his. "…or is there more to this story?"

"Something's are better left unsaid."

"No, Ziva. No--damn it, NO!" He hollers. Her counterparts from Hong Kong become alert from the shrill sound of the mature voice. "I can't take something like this as being left unsaid. Damn it--now you tell me!" He heaves. "…you tell me what your father….what your country wants with Gibbs."

"This has nothing to do with my country--"

"Then Mossad." He rubs his forehead with one of his hands. "What is it that they want?"

"He does not know?" Lior's eyes flash with surprise.

Tony takes a hit straight to his gut after hearing Lior. It is then he realizes that as close as he feels to Ziva, there still are parts of her that she chooses to keep away from him.

She stays quiet for a few moments. The breathing of the two men near her keeps her focused, but uneasy for what is yet to come.

"Your brother killed our team member--Caitlin Todd." Tony clears his throat, his voice smaller than before."…you've got to remember--"

"He was my half-brother…"

Tony ignores her correction. "Your father wants revenge." He watches her face scrunch-up in pain. "…on Gibbs, for killing Ari." He pauses for a minute. "You gonna deny that?" She shakes her head slowly; her expression still pained. "You gonna answer me, Ziva?!"

"She is in pain."

"Yeah well--she's not the only one." Tony tries to still the rattling inside his head. "I didn't sign up for this shit. From a Detective to an NCIS Agent--that was as far as I was willing to go." He huffs cruelly. "Now I'm in Tel-Aviv…hanging out with former Mossads', Mossads', and…_natural_ born killers…" His eyes linger on Ziva's. "Care to take a look in that mirror now, David?"

Lior waits for Ziva to speak, but she pushes herself away from the two men. Her only need is to gain her strength because the impulse to inflict pain on Tony tingles inside her fingertips.

"It's too late to turn back now, Ziva--you're in this!" His voice grows louder. "YOU'RE DEEP IN THIS!" His throat throbs.

"Agent DiNozzo!" Lior finds his anger for the first time since finding the two. "There are things you clearly do not know--"

"I don't have to listen to you."

"…but you should."

"Oh yeah--and why's that?" Tony shoves at the man in front of him. "You led two of my partners to their death. If I wasn't sure on how to get out of here safely, I would use my time contemplating the quickest way to put a fucking bullet through you!"

"Your team leader, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs did not kill Ari." Lior blurts, then waits as he watches Tony's face shift into one of confusion. "Ziva did."


	17. Knuckles

**Chapter 17: Knuckles**

_Its been some odd hours since he has had something to drink. He has already figured out that they are keeping him alive as part of the torture process. Although, they do not want to know anything because they already know. _

_He_ already knows.

Gibbs coughs; his throat dry. Though he can not see very well inside the darkness due to the lack of the light and the painful swelling around his eyes, he can sense the amount of dust and mold inside the cell. He knows it is a cell because he had spent an hour gripping the metal bars--and hollering at the top of his lungs sometime before.

Images flash through his mind. Some are more recent while others spring forth from the way, way past. Shannon and Kelly grip his senses a number of times while he tries to stop the throbbing in his left leg. His hands push down on the muscle that keeps tightening every so often while each time hoping that it will be its last spasm.

The back of his head leaks blood. Several forceful shoves into one of the cell walls had been enough to do the trick--as well as possible damage to his skull, but mixed in with his hopes and wishes, he silently prays that he has enough strength left to see some form of light, any light, before he will have to face the darkness--forever.

A sleek man enters with a loaded weapon attached to his hip. In one hand he impresses no one with his skilled handle on the slick blade. In his other hand, he grips the container of salt. With a knowing smirk plastered on his stubbly face, he approaches the center of the cell.

Gibbs lay still. His back trying to find relief on the damp, cold, and hard wall. He grunts when he registers the sound of footsteps.

"This better be lunchtime." He swallows causing his throat to burn.

"Maybe a story would better suit you, Agent Gibbs."

His forehead creases and he stills his body; no longer is he trying to change his position.

"…maybe it is time to figure out just how tough you Americans…really are…" He drags an empty chair from the corner. Setting the chair backwards, between Gibbs' legs, he finds comfort after sitting down. "I suggest you listen to my story very carefully, Agent Gibbs."

"I'm not sure I have a reason to."

The man grins slyly while flipping his knife with one hand.

"What's that noise?"

"Part of the story…"

Gibbs' shoulders tense, but only because he is trying to find relief for his back again. As he struggles with all the strength he can muster, he waits for the Mossad Agent in front of him to speak.

"Are we comfortable?"

"Shouldn't matter. You Mossad--aren't ya?" He coughs. "Get to it--I know the drill."

"No one has ever survived through any of the torture sessions from a Mossad. You could not possibly know how we react."

"Relentless. Heartless--I'm sure my mind is on the right track."

The man straights his shoulders at Gibbs' knowingness. In a split second he throws his knife at Gibbs. The blade makes a windy sound as it misses Gibbs' left year, and gets stuck inside one of the many cracks inside the cement cell.

Gibbs holds his breath--something in his gut telling him that another blade could be on its way.

"Ziva tell you our secrets, yes?" He questions.

"No." Gibbs gives a mild shake of his head.

"There will be punishments for lying."

"I'm not lying." He shrugs. "Hook me up to a fucking polograph machine if you've gotta. I'm telling the truth--Ziva didn't tell me shit."

The muscle in his leg begins to tighten again. His hands instantly fly to his leg where they grip the flesh eagerly.

"You look well, Agent Gibbs."

He grits his teeth from the pain. He heard the man, and his demeaning comment--but the pain is too much for him to speak properly--without stopping to take a deep breath of air.

"Consider this to be some sort of a standard--the best is only yet to come."

Gibbs closes his mouth. The need to add his own comment has become no more meaning that reality is taking its third toll on him. It is now he is seeing fear for what it is, and feeling disgusted with himself for bringing McGee along to share his soon-to-be doom.

"Where's my partner?" Gibbs kicks out the leg that has yet to bother him. "Damn it, answer me! Where is he--where is Ma-Gee?!"

"You are simply asking questions that are currently on a need-to-know basis."

"Yeah--I need to know!"

"There are plenty things you need at he moment, Agent Gibbs…plenty…' He leans in closer, this time reaching with one of his hands to slide the knife out from between the crack of the cement wall. "Did you know that 'slow-slicing' had been a form of execution in China roughly around 900 AD until 1905?" He sighs with content. "It gives a whole new meaning to--how do the Americans say? 'Slicing and Dicing'….did I get it correct?" He finishes with a slow chuckle.

"Keep…talking…" He mutters under his breath, his leg coming out to hopefully kick this man or the chair that he is sitting on. "…you son of a bitch--just keep talking."

"Impalement was a method of torture." He pauses. "Driving a long stake through a person--either, killing them quickly…or killing them slowly."

"You're a poet." Gibbs quips.

The man forces Gibbs' shoulders into one of the dingy walls of the dingy cell. Gripping his knife in one hand, he quickly swoops down and slices open the four k knuckles of Gibbs' right hand.

A grunt escapes Gibbs as he feels warm fluid begin to run between his hand.

"I promise there are things about me that you will find of interest, Agent Gibbs--ones far more interesting than this poet you have observed in me."

Gibbs tries to use his other hand to apply some sort of pressure to his open wounds, as the man begins to pour the salt directly into the cut skin. The burning causes Gibbs to shiver.

"I am Mossad."

"…know that…" Gibbs kicks at the floor with his feet; slamming his head into the wall behind him as he tries to stand the growing burn.

"I specialize in punishment tactics a highly trained Special Agent knows nothing about."

"Don't gloat. It ain't _your _style."

"It is _yours_, yes?" He rips his unwounded hand away from his wounds, and then snaps one end of the metal cuffs around his wrist. Yanking his forward, Gibbs topples over, knocking his face directly into the dusty, concrete floor. Instantly he pushes his head to the side, resting his cheek against the ground, his tongue flicks across his teeth as he mentally counts them. Before he is able to catch his breath, he feels his cheek being scraped against the floor for a few seconds. "I have yet to hear your answer, Agent Gibbs."

"Didn't give me a cha--"

A another dash of salt hit's the bloody and raw flesh that make up the inside of his knuckles. "Ah--shit…" He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, using his teeth to bite down on it.

"Rest now, Agent Gibbs--this is only the beginning.


	18. Campfire

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, so glad to hear from everyone that's reading. Your reviews are the REAL awesomeness around here! Yeah...that sounded pretty lame... shame on me (slaps wrist). Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. I didn't expect to write one tonight since editing for my final assignment took FOREVER and a DAY (okay, not exactly all day...but nearly all day. Damn macs...damn final cut pro.) Anyway--that's enough of that. Hope you enjoy this chapter...and here's to hoping there's good times in the... possibly near future. :). _LATER DAYS_--**GEEK**.

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**Chapter 18: Campfire**

Eight wooden chairs stand on their own in the form of a circle inside of the warehouse. There is plenty of space between each chair as the need for personal space is as important as the slight breezes that finds its way inside.

The humidity is riding Tony's nerves. An image of a spacious shower with a shower-head shooting only cool water out enters Tony's mind every five minutes.

Ziva knows his discomfort, but instead of offering him understanding words, she ignores his silent pleas for possible distracting conversation.

Lior is the first to find a seat. His bold move does not go unnoticed by anyone, especially Ziva. "...perhaps we should begin..."

Tony mutters to himself only. Lior's betrayal of Ziva's trust hits him on a personal level. Now the mere sight of Lior causes the blood inside of his veins to pulse.

Grabbing the chair farthest, yet directly across from Lior, Tony places himself inside of it. As soon as his behind hits the seat, he can feel the humid heat pressing into him. He makes a face, shifts a few times, then stays completely still.

Lior looks to Ziva and her team of Agents that are holding back as well. They stand behind her; each one stands in their way as if it is their own signature styles.

"Maybe you ought to find a seat, Ziva..." Tony looks to her and there is plea in his eyes. "...holding back will only worsen their condition...whatever it may be..."

She hisses momentarily. She knows he is being correct and without him there she is sure she would be too blinded to even considerate it.

"Take a seat." She spits to them while finding her own seat, and they follow her order like she is their superior.

Tony takes note to the way they spring into action. He tries for a moment of Ziva's time, to use his eyes and to seek an answer to the question mark that is hovering over his head, but she refuses to make eye contact with him. She also refuses to find a seat on either side of him.

"I assume we all would like to know just who we are dealing with." She turns her head and focuses to the near left of Tony. What she sees springs forth a memory from a time when things were better than now--a time where every morning working behind and on the side of Tony rewarded her with an in-depth viewing and listening of Tony's fascinations with women. "To Tony's left we have Mey Ming. Her best weapon is her intelligence. She originates from Hong Kong, with a background in several Chinese Intelligence Agencies. The objectives of an Agent of C.I is to obtain information on commercial, technological, and military secrets."

Tony smiles at her. "You're just a little barrel packing a great deal of intellectual heat, Ms. Ming." She glares at him, narrowing her eyes in a way he feels uncomfortable with. "...Anthony DiNozzo, Special Agent for NCIS."

"They are aware of your status, Tony--now please, shut up." Ziva requests before her eyes travel to his near right. "To Tony's right we have Ting Shing--on the other side of Ting we have Shen Shing. Both are from the same family--cousins. Though it is unknown, and with good reason, they are said to have originated from Singapore--"

"What's the 'good' reason?" Tony waits patiently.

"...they've gone into hiding..." Her throat tightens a little, but she pushes on. "Their talent comes from their last name. Shing means 'victory'--meaning...whatever the situation or the weapon, they complete their tasks. Unlike Mey Ming, they operate on their own times, at their own costs."

Ziva narrows her eyes at Tony. With them she tells him to keep his mouth closed so she can continue.

"On my right we have Kong Chan--to his right, Guang Chan. These two men work closely with...Michael and myself. They are brothers, originating from Hong Kong. Their speciality is their vision--with both of their first names combined we form the words Bright-Light. They have served Michael and I extremely well on many of our sniper missions on some of the darkest nights."

She shifts in her chair, looking quickly at Lior. Seeing his face there, waiting, angers her more, but she pushes herself to continue once again. "Lior..." She stops to sigh, "Last name unknown, position...position rogue...former Mossad...current backstabber--"

"We should move things along now." Tony interjects loudly. "What's our plan now that we've got enough skilled persons to protect the White House?"

"There is hardly one. We move quickly--we move carefully. We find them, then we trade."

Tony leans forward. "Trade?"

"The only chance Gibbs and McGee have is if I take their places."

The Italian snorts. "You're kidding, right?" He shakes his head. "You're willing to hand yourself over like a spare t-shirt?"

"If the shoe fits, wear it."

"It isn't the shoe fitting that worries me, Ziva--it's the knowledge that you're willing to slip inside it so easily."

"My country, my 'father'...my responsibility."

His eyes soften as a thought comes to mind, "You know you're sounding a lot like a Marine I know..." She does not look away from him, but her eyes gloss a little. "...except for the whole father issue..."

"It has been a long time, Tony--my way of thinking of mine alone. I am not Gibbs--I do not...sound like Gibbs." She tears her eyes away from his because they are pulling things to the surface from deep within her.

Tony straightens his shoulders. "There's got to be another way."

"Perhaps Agent DiNozzo is right, Ziva--perhaps there is."

Ziva lets out a heartless laugh. "There is only so far that we can go--that I can go, before it is all over. Wherever they are being held is surrounded by my father's men."

"Maybe." She looks to Tony just as he shrugs. "All I know is I managed to land in Tel Aviv--twice, within a couple of days, and I'm still alive."

"Now we may be safe, in minutes we could be in danger. It is only a matter of time before Mossad finds us, Tony--"

"Yeah, and Micahel, too." He glares at her.

Her eyes catch fire at his comment. "That isn't any of your business."

"Tell that to Gibbs--to McGee, you know, when we find them chopped up, beheaded--or shot to death." He scoffs. "Tell them it isn't any of their business when they ask just why they had to suffer."

"You are having a hard time keeping a firm hand on your emotions, Tony." Her tone warning.

"I'm only a reflection of you, Ziva." He throws back at her with such viciousness, it causes him to leap out of his chair. "One minute you're angry, next minute you're trying to hold back tears!"

"I ask for you to shut your mouth, Tony--NOW!"

"You're as fucked up as the rest of us!" His arms fly from his sides and his fingers begin a pointing match to everyone in the room. "Lior insists he's rogue, but he answers to Mossad as if he sorry life depends on it! The rest of your posse looks as lifeless as Gibbs' basement!" He nears his finish while pointing at her, "...and you...you act like the only way to save two people you honestly care for is by trading your life, your only life, with theirs--"

"IT IS THE HONORABLE THING TO DO!!!"

"Bullshit!" He shakes his head roughly. "You're just doing it so you can show off. You're just doing it so your life--your story, can live on even after you're gone."

In five steps she reaches Tony, her knife already in her hand--her knife already at his throat.

"Yeah--do it! Do it Ziva--everybody knows I don't have the same option as you. I don't have the option to be a legend after my death." He feels lightheaded from the situation and the heat, but he does not back down. "So do it...do to me what you wanted to do to Gibbs--"

"I..." Her mind begins to race.

"You wanted to hurt him--you wanted to get to him...for what happened with Branson--"

"I never--"

"You never got the chance? Was that it?!" He feels the impression of the tip of the blade on his skin now. "Are you angrier now...now that somebody else has a chance to do what you've longed for--"

"I NEVER WANTED TO KILL HIM!" She shouts; her throat scorching.

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!"

His words make her press the knife further--deeper into his skin so he can feel the reality more than ever, but not enough to break the skin and cut him.

"Tony...please..." She breathes heavily. "...now is not the time...nor the place...for this...for...for talk about the past...for talk about..."

"...gibbs?" He swallows hard. "...why is it never a good time to talk about Gibbs?"

Her eyes soften for a moment, but in a flash they harden again. "So much has happened."

Tony shakes his head slowly. "That answer isn't good enough. Damn it, Ziva--after all that has happened...that answer just isn't good enough."

Uncertainty consumes her senses and it is then Tony is able to force her hand and the knife away from his throat. Twisting her arm swiftly, he grabs the knife from her hand. Then he looks to her face and he can see her shock.

"Can't be at the top of your game when you're too busy trash-talking." He turns the knife around in his hand and let the blade lay in his open palm as he pushes it towards her. "Take it."

She swallows, her throat dry. Carefully, she takes the knife out of his hand, the whole time looking straight into his eyes.

"I'm only here to help you, Ziva--and you don't exactly make that easy..." He slightly shrugs. "...without a fight, you hardly realize all that you have lost."


	19. Mr Rivkin and His Puzzle Pieces

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, just wanted to stop by and say that this fic will be coming to a pause that could possibly last a short or long while. There are issues at home that are slowly being settled so everything is still up in the air. I'm also working on my final cuts for my short film for one of my classes before May 22nd. Then there's work...but I will continue with this fic. I'm not going to abandon it or anything--it just might take me a while after the end-ish of May to post new chapters. I'll keep everyone posted as much as I can--and I also apologize for this sudden news.

Anyway, I hope everybody that's reading enjoys this chapter--and of course sorry for any missed typos/errors. _LATER DAYS_**--GEEK**.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Mr. Rivkin and His Puzzle Pieces**

A rocket scientist had not been needed in order for Michael to understand Ziva's abrupt disappearance. He needed one second, and one second only to realize that Lior had not only double-crossed Director David some time before, but that he had double-crossed _him_.

They had an agreement--a _verbal _agreement. Some words were even left unsaid because the respect they held for one another--some sort of _bond _only held between former Mossads, former Mossads that had went against the Director, was so strong; so true. Ziva was a part of that bond; she was a part of that trust, but the voice Michael had stifled inside his head for quite sometime had spoken so very loudly to him for the very _first_ time. Ziva had left, in a heated pursuit to battle against their own blood; her own country, in order to protect her _American_ friends.

Without a sliver of a doubt, her decision bothered Michael to his very core. He reacted as humanly possible as he could, without alerting anyone that happened to be nearby. Yes, his rage was blinding, but his self-control had been set sturdily in place for a respectable amount of his adult life--and now was not the time to bruise his image.

Ziva had been everything correct in his life. With her knowledge of being a Mossad she knew what he needed during the times he began to doubt himself about all that he had done for Mossad so he could follow through with a direct order. Her words were not only comforting, but they were real. His feelings were handled delicately because she knew what it felt like--she knew how these feelings reoccurring every now and again.

Michael was no fool. He knew that the second time she fled the United States, he would trigger an instant reaction in one team member that would eventually attack the orders like a domino-rally effect, and their worlds would spin completely out of control for the second time around because of her. He wanted that, _badly_--he wanted those he did not know, but knew of, to pay for pushing Ziva around during their times of leisure. For taking her on like she had been an obstacle rather than a person, then for throwing her back into the hands of her father without a second thought--without a _single _second thought.

There had been a time where Michael thought fondly of Eli David. The man that fathered Ziva in his own warped way had been a guiding light to them both as they grew from children. When the shadows that surrounded Eli David began to seep through his senses and consume his nearly frigid heart, Michael had no choice than to disobey the sickening order that would ultimately bring Ziva to her death.

He owed it to her, to save her. To protect her from the busy hands of her father--so eager to end the life of the only living child he had left on the face of the planet, and he had been on a road to extreme successfulness until certain _words_ were spoken and certain aspects of his pride began to spill over his senses.

Never a word from Ziva because in the moment of now, her lips were tighter more than they had ever been--more than he had ever remembered them. What she knew, she kept to herself. At first, Michael assumed that any discussions involving Ari would hurt her--would burn her insides like acid, but soon he began to gather the pieces of several puzzles, and soon her behavior started to become very apparent to him.

These _words_ came from deep within his mind. They were the little answers formed by the tiny gremlins that had taken residence inside his mind since a time he could not remember.

He remembered hearing of the Director of Mossad ordering Ziva to enter America--and to stop Ari who had spiraled completely out of control. He remembered speaking to her over a private line--wishing her luck on her journey into unfamiliar lands. He remembered Ari's death, too--and just like that, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall to his feet in every-which-way.

This unsettlement came about because of the _Americans_. Their greed, their _need _for a constant victory, though _hardly_ ever earned, caused them to disrupt her life, her country, and her relations _inside _of Mossad. With the pieces down and scattered all around, it boggled his mind until one day each piece began to speak for itself. Each piece began its own story--one filled with hundreds upon hundreds of _words_.

These words formed questions and those questions poured from Michael's mouth whenever he found a moment alone with her. Unfortunately for him, each time went unsatisfied until resentment began to find its happy home within him, and Ziva appeared unaffected by his behavior--his skepticism of her.

Her ignorance of his questions, his actions--his _feelings_, sent him into a world of darkness.

It was there he met with shadows of himself he never knew existed. The thick, darkened, layers of some of his inner-most thoughts took form before him and it had been as if he saw reflections of himself--in full form--from head to toe.

Now he had a team he never had before; that realization had become something new to him--something riveting to him. A one-man army of wicked thoughts caused by his burning need to uncover Ziva's deepest thoughts and to obtain her accurate answers to his yearning questions attacked him from the inside.

So he felt the tingling in his fingertips, and he felt himself crash to his knees. He remembered touching the imaginary puzzle pieces, each as unique as the next, and he remembered the simplicity of connecting their interesting cut-outs, and how the completion of the puzzle; the conclusion of the story had tasted so sweet.

Even through the most direct orders from the Director of Mossad, Ziva David would not stop her half-brother by killing him. She would have captured him and she would have given him a chance--because he had been Mossad, and because she felt a responsibility to her family and to her country. It was something admirable--something so very American, yet something the Americans could never understand_; _something _an_ American could never _understand_.

Something _that _American…would pay for.


	20. Losing Sight

**Author's Note:** Hey guys. It's been about a month or so since I last posted. I'm still not currently set with my moving out of state, but I've got a lot of time on my hands these days. I figure I better jump back into things-especially with this fic. I left this fic is a tough spot-Gibbs and McGee held by Mossad. Tony, Ziva, and several of her new friends are on a mission to finding them. Abby is still being stalked by an unknown person. Still a lot of things to settle/establish. Anyway, here is chapter 20. I really hope that anyone that is still reading likes it-and if you have time, let me know what you think. I had to refresh my memory on all that is going on, but I did it as quick as possible, so let's hope I'm still on my game. Later Days. **-Geek** _(Sabrina)_

**Chapter 20: Losing Sight**

Sticky. Wet. Shimmering. Deadly.

Blood on the walls. Blood on the floors. Blood in his eyes.

The Marine can barely cough as his throat tightens from the dryness. Next to him, a stream of blood drains from a metal container that is on the opposite side of the wall he is leaning against.

The blood had been given to him-to drink. Given to him to be his own source of liquids; a substitute for water.

His red fingers leak with blood that is not his own and blood that is. His instincts told him to check what they had offered him before consuming it.

Still, the blood fills his brain like an ever-growing tumor. He questions the whereabouts of his partner, but nobody answers back.

He is alone. Four walls. Silence. No lights.

He is becoming tired.

His body is beginning to tremble.

His vision is starting to blur.

His hopes are slipping away from him; so much blood all around him, on him, coming from within him, making it impossible to hold on to them…to anything.

* * *

Metal against skin. Thick silence. A dimly lit square box.

A wooden chair sits properly with all four legs on the ground as the man tied to it tries to clear his throbbing head.

His stomach growls, he is hungry. His stomach jumps; he is sick.

Droplets of contaminated water stain his muddy t-shirt.

The silence is consuming him. The loneliness dancing around him like demons.

He is unsure. He is near panic. He is scared of each passing second.

* * *

Gravel scraps against the bottom of his shoes. The former Mossad stalks his American prey for the very first time. The feeling is enthralling, yet insatiable.

Michael growls low in his throat. His stomach as stern as his enraged fist. His target is slumps forward; begging for a source of light so he can see his visitor.

"Agent Gibbs."

It is hard to speak now. His mouth is dry. His taste buds prickly. His breath stale.

"Do you know who I am?"

His burning knuckles, cut with a blade and seasoned with kosher salt. The raw flesh still feeling as if acid is eating its way into his body.

"I suggest you answer me, Agent Gibbs."

He feels weak. The feeling cuts him like a knife. His sharp-wit is no more. His ability to play the game no more. His strength to carry through with this ordeal skims the surface of being no more. He can hardly take it. The darkness. The blood-all that blood.

Michael kicks him in the stomach. The tip of his boot still embedded into the fold that Gibbs has now created with such an impact on his body.

In seconds, Michael kicks him again. The lack of food in his stomach makes him heave. Sweat trickles down his forehead. The heat surrounding him.

"ANSWER ME!" Michael's voice echoes inside the damp room.

With an attempt to stay alive, Gibbs makes a sound small enough to send whatever pride he has left, dwindling down to the depths of nothingness.

"Are you not able to speak properly to me, Agent Gibbs?"

"…I…" He stops to heave.

"Should I come back later?"

"…no…" He painfully swallows. "…you…you want to…finish me?" He grits his teeth as best as he can, but the pain never stops. "…do it. Do it now…finish me…"

Michael draws lazy circles on the broken concrete, a lazy smile playing on his lips. He squats down to grab the back of Gibbs neck. Blood that has drained and dried from deep scraps on the sides of his face crinkles and rubs on to his hand.

Gibbs' shoulders are tense. The pressure to the back of his neck making it even harder to catch a much needed breath.

"I am nowhere near finished with you, Agent Gibbs." He squeezes tighter. "…nowhere…"

His hand tightens once more causing Gibbs to cringe.

Michael lets him go, then stands tall. "There is something you have that I very much want."

"…I'm not…talking."

"That is what they all say, Agent Gibbs. That is what they all say…"

He hovers over him. He likes the feeling of power. His stamina makes Gibbs reflect back to _Kyle Branson_. Another lowlife that loved the sweetness that came with _control_.

Gibbs cringes for the second time since Michael's arrival. It makes Michael curious, but there are other questions on his mind.

"How can you be so 'special' if all you want to do is die without knowing if your partner is still alive?"

"…couldn't…get to…him…if…if I tried…"

"So you are truly giving up, then?"

"I…" He stops to catch his breath. "…argh…"

The legs of the wooden chair drag against the floor; the wood so old it could break.

Gibbs prepares himself for new wounds. A swift slice in the air creates a pool of his blood surrounding him. He already knows. He can taste the silver. He can smell the metal.

A latch is unleashed, but as it nears him, another object he is unaware of makes contact with the tip of what he knows is a blade.

The smell of something sweet; something crisp fills his nostrils. His stomach comes alive with raging hunger.

Michael bites into the apple. It is red and it is oh-so-delicious. As his mouth chews the sweet juice from the particles of the apple, he even feels the smug control over the helpless fruit.

"There is something that I want from you, Agent Gibbs. Something more important to me than what is more important to Director David." He stabs the apple once more with his switch-blade. "I want you to make me understand why my beloved wife decided to leave me."

"Maybe…you're a fucking bastard." Gibbs feels slight victory at being able to say what he wanted to say without falling short of breath.

Michael grins; leaving the blade in the apple for a few moments.

"Do you know who my wife is, Agent Gibbs?"

"No." Gibbs shrugs.

"Then, do you know what her reason was for marrying me?"

"She fell-knocked herself on the head-lost her senses." He mentally pats himself on the back for getting in a hearty line.

"Ziva wouldn't be so foolish."

Gibbs feels a tightness in his stomach as well as something else. He heaves again, then cringes once more. The memories are coming back in spurts now. He never lost them, but he buried them as deep as he could.

"I took her into my life. All her flaws-all her wrong-doings. I made her understand that I could and that I would love her no matter what she did, but this…this was not part of the plan. This goes against our vows."

At the mention of 'vows', Gibbs is down-again. This time he is bleeding on the inside.

"…and I can't figure it out, Agent Gibbs. I can not figure out why on earth Ziva, my…my beloved wife would spare her life for the Americans…especially the one that had killed her brother."

His eyes are a dingy blue and they are wild. Regret is swallowing whatever senses he reserved for any means of survival. He is slipping farther-deeper into a world he is not prepared for.

"You…must know the answer, Agent Gibbs." Michael cuts a slice of his apple. The atmosphere falling into an uncomfortable calm. "After-all you take great pride in shaping the Agents under you."

Gibbs shakes his head as if the words 'Agents' and 'under' begin to haunt him. He feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.

"You are putting Ziva at great risk."

"…how?" His voice is raspy.

"The longer you keep the truth from me, the more pain she will endure before she reaches her death."

"…you'd do…that? To your…your…" Gibbs hates the foul taste in his mouth. "…your wife?"

"I'd do it to my mother…if she were alive." Michael chuckles. "I take vows importantly, Agent Gibbs. I hold them close to me-I live by them. When someone takes my expectations and they do away with them as if they never mattered…the only way to fix the problem is to make them pay for their wrong-doings."

"That's…not how we do it…in America."

"Another reason why I find your kind to be scum." Michael chucks the core at Gibbs. It hits his head, falls to his lap, rolls from there and lands into a tiny pool of blood. "Aren't you curious as to whom all of this blood belongs to?"

"It isn't McGee's." Uncertainty is clear within his voice.

"…is it Ziva's?"

The reality of this possible truth makes Gibbs cry out in blinding pain. The unexpected outburst even startles Michael, and it begins a new series of question he never even imagined.

"What was she to you?" Michael slowly stands from the chair. His heart pounding so loud he can hear it in his ears. "ANSWER ME!"

Gibbs catches his breath as best he could, "A fine Agent. One of the best…partners any team could ever have."

"There's more." Michael takes his blade and swipes at Gibbs face. The impact cuts through a previous cut that had developed an ugly scab. "Ziva wouldn't return for that reason alone."

"I'm telling you the truth!" He holds his breath; his stomach twisting with the image of the new wound.

He swipes again, this time catching his bottom lip and slicing it open near the corner.

Gibbs yells as blood trickles down his chin and onto his dingy and bloody t-shirt.

"How far does your knowledge of Ziva go?"

"She…she was only an Agent! She was only there to do her…job." Gibbs takes another slash to the other side of his face. "DAMN IT-FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY!"

Tears begin to blur his darkened vision. He catches his bottom lip in his mouth to stifle himself, but the fresh cut is making the blood pool into his mouth. He is drinking it in; its metallic flavor reaching the pit of his stomach and making it churn.

"…I…I can't take this…I can't…do this…" His face twists. "…just…please…don't hurt my people." He stops to swallow; more of his blood filling his insides. "…they don't deserve to pay…they don't deserve to die…not for my mistake." He shudders. "I killed him. I killed Ari…you know…she knows…and her father knows…" He inhales with a shaky breath. "…kill me…just don't hurt my team…please."

Michael cleans his blade and properly closes it. In a matter of seconds he is out of the room.

Gibbs wails in pain and in regret; not caring that whatever energy he has left is being wasted on his tears.


	21. Talking Scared

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the great reviews guys and I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.**-Geek**

* * *

**Chapter 21: Talking Scared**

She stabs a termite infested piece of wood. It crumbles to the floor with her knife now mixed in with the broken bits.

There is nowhere to go. There is no insight of their whereabouts.

They are failing their tortured teammates. They are failing themselves.

He stands straight with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. His mind is reeling and it does nothing, but anger him.

"I'm not sure it was such a good idea to trust the others." Tony waits for her input, but she does not comment. "I know you say you know these people, but-"

"I do know 'these people', Tony." She is near a growl. "Michael and I…" She inhales sharply. "…Michael and I trusted these people with our lives so many times before. You do not know them therefore you can not judge them."

"It shouldn't take them this long."

"It could." She breaks another piece of rotted wood with her knife. "There are many areas to cover."

"Everyone was assigned an area-"

"It doesn't mean anything, Tony."

He wants to scream at her, but he controls himself.

"Besides…there might not be anything for us to find." She sighs, her shoulders heavy. "They could be dead already."

"Right, that's a really good way to be optimistic."

"There is no reason for us to get our hopes up."

He scoffs, then laughs. It is a bitter sound that rattles the bones in her body.

"So you're quitting-you don't really give a shit if we do find them?"

"I did not say that, Tony."

"No, but you might as well have. How could you treat them as if they've never existed in your life? How could you be so…okay with it all?"

"I've trained myself to handle situations such as these. I've lived these situations…time and time again." She puts her knife away. "…and I have been there, once or twice, where I have been so positive about the outcome of my findings only to find that there is never anything good that is left behind."

"You're not making any sense."

"Yes! I am…if you listen closely, Tony, you will understand why there is such an open end to the ways of Mossad." He uncrosses his arms; his eyes telling her that she is not getting through to him. "Whatever they leave behind is nothing that the seeker can use."

"Their bodies…you mean?" He pauses for a moment. "…they're not going to leave them alive…we're not going to…find them alive…" He voice is strained. "…are we?"

Her voice hitches in her throat. She is beginning to slip. Her heart is beginning to race. Her mouth beginning to dry. Nothing seemed so real until Tony uttered such a question with his heart dangling on his sleeve.

"…there…" She licks her lips as she tries to find composure. "…there could be…a way to find them-to save them…but I…" She shakes her head. "I do not know, Tony. And damn it…if they die…I won't take the blame for your mistake!"

His eyes light with a blaze. "Don't even try to pin the blame on me, Ziva. Don't even…dare leave this hanging over my head. My intentions were good-"

"Yes, but your way of doing so went unplanned and full of risk."

"I HAD TO!" He his words lash at her, but she is already up and moving around him; stalking him like he is her prey. "…damn it don't you see that I did this so you could come back?"

"THERE WAS NO ROOM FOR ME, TONY. I COULD NOT COME BACK!" She grabs her head and grinds her palms against the sides of her skull. "This did not concern you, Tony. This was not your battle to fight!"

"You're right, Ziva." He strikes the wall with his fist; three knuckles split and they begin to bleed. "It was yours-and you backed down." He cradles his throbbing hand. "…like a coward."

She can hear her breathing. It is even, but it is wild. She wants to rip the knife from her side and attack him, but the pain in his eyes stops her. The misery inside the darkened pools gets the best of her because he is a dear friend.

"…so hate…Ziva. Hate me for trying to get things fixed. Hate me for trying to form some sort of stability in each of our lives. Hate me for…hate me for doing Gibbs' job." He growls with distaste. "Guess he is a bastard after-all, huh?"

"Do not say that, Tony-please." She cringes. "Wherever he is…wherever they are…they do not need to be spoken badly about."

"The truth hurts." His tone rough. "Gibbs' would have wanted it this way-the son of a bitch would probably have thrived on it." He rips the sleeve of his t-shirt off and tends to the knuckles on his hand. "…self-satisfying some of a bitch."

"TONY!" She yells.

He mentally falls back, but his body stays in the exact same spot. His eyes close a tad, but they are still focused on her. He is studying her.

"Why don't you tell me exactly what happened between you and Gibbs…after your return?"

"None of that matters-"

"Whether it does or it doesn't, I'd still like to know."

"I do not have to tell you anything, Tony."

"No…" He grabs one end of the piece of t-shirt with his teeth while his other hand pulls the opposite end. "…but you're going to tell me."

She steps back in offense, but she does not say a word.

He finds a part of the wall to lean against. "We'll probably be following in their footsteps. We'll probably be dead in a couple of minutes." He shrugs. "Here's your time to tell at least one truth to me, Ziva. Tell me exactly what happened-tell me why you and Gibbs just never could piece things back together." His head drops and he shakes his head slowly. "Tell me why on earth I trusted in you enough to tell you what had happened to Gibbs while you were gone…the blast, the hospital, his memory loss, his retirement, his not-so-normal return. Tell me why on earth I fucking took you back the first time! Give me something to work with!" He glares at her. "Give me a fucking meaning. Give me something to be proud of. Fuck-Ziva, just give me something to think about before I'm fucking tortured until my death by the people you've spent your entire life catering to!"

Just then, a burst through the warehouse door startles them both.


	22. Captured

**Chapter 22: Captured**

Tony is slammed into the ground by Ziva. She lay still on top of him; her breath held. A large crate blocks any view of them from the front door of the warehouse.

The sound of bodies dropping can be heard throughout the warehouse.

Footsteps. Laughter. More footsteps. Growls.

Guns are held by five men; Michael as their leader. They begin to open fire in each direction of the warehouse.

Tony clutches Ziva and rolls over, pushing her underneath him. She fights against him and his body until she is able to roll him on his back, climb on top of him, and be his shield.

"Not going to let me die a good man, are ya?"

"Shut up, Tony." She catches sight of his wounded hand. "The wounded need protection."

His eyes are glossy. A sense of fear can be seen through his smoldering eyes. This operation is one he has never been a part of…one he has only seen in movies.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Tony. If given an option I will trade my life for yours."

He does not like her words, and so he grimaces.

A bullet flies past them. It's range closer than the others before. Tony opens his eyes fully and notices two men standing above them.

"Get up." One orders.

Ziva looks back to Tony, but can not say anything.

Two pairs of strong hands grab a hold of them both and begin to drag them to the center of the warehouse. Michael is there, waiting for them as he knew he would find them.

Ziva looks by his feet and sees their teams' dead bodies, except for Lior, laying before them. Some with knife wounds, other with bullet wounds. She feels a weight on her heart and Tony feels queasiness in his stomach.

"Here." Michael orders his men.

Ziva and Tony are grabbed by the back of their heads, their keepers push them to the floor with a fistful of their hair. Their knees smack into the cement with a force strong enough to break them. Tony groans. A slight basketball injury from his past comes back within seconds to haunt him. Ziva turns to him, wanting to reach out to him, but knowing if she does _he_ will pay for _her _mistake.

Michael falls to his knees and covers her mouth with his. She lets him, knowing she owes him regardless of everything.

When he pulls away, he smacks her. She regains her composure quickly and reaches out to punch him across the face. He lets her because a part of him still loves her.

Tony watches; his gut continues to twist. He can see their love, it is sick and twisted.

Ziva looks to him and catches his expression before he is able to hide it. Her own gut twists in shame. His thoughts reaching her brain process completely. He is thinking wrongly of her and Michael, but she has no time to explain.

Michael punches Tony because he can. They are not restrained, but the guns trained on the back of their heads is enough to make them take whatever pain is inflicted on them.

"…we're not getting out of this one, Ziva." Tony mutters, but does not face her.

Michael stands, withdraws his knife and begins to pace before them.

"You have hurt me, Ziva." He centers on her, then continues to pace. "You have taken my heart and you have thrown it away."

"I wasn't aware you had one." Tony interrupts.

Michael stops, but does not turn around to face them. Instead, he gives a sideways glance to one of his men, and soon the sound of a knife ripping through material is heard.

Blood gushes from Tony's left shoulder. It soaks through his shirt and it seeps through the tear in it. The blade is covered with his blood. The man steps around him and shows him the knife before he smears the blood all over his face.

"One more intrusion and you will be unable to speak, Agent DiNozzo." Michael warns him.

Tony feels the burn of the open wound and the dripping of the warm liquid.

Ziva whips around to face Michael.

"Tell me Michael-what is it that you want?" She is alive and frantic.

"The only thing I ever wanted from you Ziva was your honesty and your love."

"I gave-"

"You gave me nothing!" He hollers at her. "Your love was a lie and your honesty never existed!

"There are things you would have never understood, Michael." She inhales sharply. "Things I promised to keep to myself. Things I did not want anyone to know."

He signals to the same man and soon Tony is face down on the cement. Three slashes to his back soak the rest of his shirt with his blood. The burn makes him shiver, but he does not cry out.

"The more you lie, the more he pays, Ziva."

"I am telling you the truth!" She tries to stand, but is forced down by another man.

"Why have you come for Agent Gibbs?"

His question makes her fall back.

"ANSWER ME!"

"I'm here to help Tony-that is all."

"Ziva…" Tony's quiet voice can be heard from below her. "…be honest…"

Tears form in her eyes as she sees his helpless eyes.

"…I owe it to Agent Gibbs…" She swallows; her thought tight with emotion. "…I owe it to Agent Gibbs…because he did for me what no one else ever would."

This intrigues Michael, but it also angers him.

"He lied." She swallows hard, again. "…he lied for me. He took the responsibility for the murder of my brother when I…" She looks quickly to Tony who is trying to keep his senses in order. "…I killed him." Her eyes turn to fire and hatred, and she turns to look at Michael. "I killed Ari."

Michael leans forward as if he is about to be sick. He swallows hard. The new-found knowledge of Ziva's attachment to Gibbs makes his stomach burn like volcanic acid.

"You sold yourself to the devil, Ziva-to the Americans." He shudders in disgust. "You murdered your own flesh and blood."

"Ari was out of control, Michael. He had no right to do what he did…he killed one of their team mates."

"You haven't the right to judge him, Ziva." He points his finger at her.

"He was out of control." She stands by her opinion.

Michael raises his hand and opens his mouth, a raging order ready to rip through him when someone on the opposite end of the warehouse opens fire.


	23. Crossfire

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, I wanted to stop by and thank everyone for the reviews. I love reading them and I'm glad that everyone is enjoying the fic so far. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Catch ya on the flip side and I'll do my best to update as soon as I can.

* * *

**Chapter 23: Crossfire**

A bullet pierces the man that assaulted Tony. It rips through his chest and stops at a halt, embedded in his heart. He falls to the ground, missing Tony by few inches.

The other men turn to fire, but Lior manages to shoot two others while Ziva swiftly kicks the nearest man to her. He falls and loses grip on his weapon. She grabs it, shoots him in the arm, then the leg. He scrambles on the floor, trying to find a means of help, but he at a loss.

She rounds him and reaches for Tony. She helps him up quickly. Thankfully his stab wounds are not enough to keep him down. Reaching for his unmarked weapon attached to his leg, he flings it forward and shoots the man running beside Michael.

The man's body barrels forward and it falls in the path of Michael.

Michael crashes to the floor. He scrambles for his weapon, rips around and fires it at Tony.

The bullet rips through Tony's shoulder; the same shoulder that was slashed moments before. He makes a gruff sound as the bullet knocks him back a few steps.

Lior fires in the direction of Michael, the last man of his team that is unarmed-but Michael is quicker. Three bullets enter Lior's chest at a rapid speed. It knocks him to the ground; no chance of survival.

Ziva stops her scream and aims the gun at Michael.

"Put it down, Michael."

"Never."

"Put it down." Tony agrees as he trains his gun on Michael.

"You need me." Michael holds his hand and his weapon steady. "You need me to tell you where they are."

"They could be dead!" Ziva yells, her rage finally taking control of any of her other senses.

Tony holds his breath. He is in a position where he can not trust Michael, but he wants so bad for his teammates to be okay.

"Ziva…" He begins slowly.

"You said so yourself, Tony. He can not be trusted." She shakes her head roughly, trying to control her rage. "Mossad can not be trusted."

"If you kill him, there's no chance-"

"Then that's the way things were meant to be." Her hand begins to tremble with fiery. "PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lior's lifeless body. It is official, there will never be room correction between the two.

He is gone.

"He'll put it down, just…don't kill him." Tony's voice cracks a little.

"I will not." Michael slowly rises to his feet.

Tony looks to Ziva, hoping that she will steady her trembling hand, but she will not. He inhales sharply as the bullet within his shoulder feels as if it is shifting inside his flesh.

A creak from an old, withered door forces Tony to look behind Ziva. He quickly throws his aim at the man striding through with his own weapon ready to open fire.

Ziva does not lose her sight on Michael. Her trembling hand firms a little, but she never slips for even a second.

"Ziva…" Tony swallows. "…we've got company."

As her mind forms a question, a familiar voice reaches her ears and drives directly into her heart.

"Ziva…" Tony says again, a few moments later. "…turn around…turn around and face your father."

She shakes her head roughly. Tears spill from her eyes. It blurs it vision, but she does not take her strong gaze off of Michael.

Michael smirks. "It is a moment of truth, Ziva." He looks past her shoulder at her father. "Either way, you die."

Tony feels his own blood rushing over his body. His back and shoulder sting uncontrollably.

"Ah…" He voices his pain finally.

Ziva hears him, but she does not break eye contact with her husband.

"MICHAEL, TELL ME WHERE THEY ARE!" Her throat burns like fire.

As the fire between the two begins to intensify, Tony's hand begins to tremble as her father walks freely towards them.

"…Ziva…" He says lowly.

"Kill him, Tony." She whispers harshly.

Tony shakes his head though he knows she is not looking at him. His heart begins to pound loudly. He can feel it in his ears.

"Ziva, I…can't." He says weakly." I can't kill your father."

"Off the record, Tony."

He understands. She will cover for him, but either way-he will burn from the pain for years to come.

"Fuck." He shakes his head to clear his senses, but the pounding in his ears makes it hard.

Michael takes a step closer; following the pattern of Director David. Ziva sticks her gun out farther, indicating her plans if he takes another step.

"I will shoot you, Michael."

"If you had the slightest urge of doing so you would have done it already." He laughs cruelly. "I told you that you needed me, Ziva. You need me because somewhere in that pretty little head of yours, you are just _dying _to know what has become of your American friends."

"It would come to this, Ziva." Her father chimes in. "You knew what dealing with the Americans would lead to…you knew what investing your time within Agent Gibbs' team would do to you…to your mind."

"Don't listen to them, Ziva." Tony finds a way into the conversation; his voice desperate.

"I met with Agent Gibbs recently. He wished to die; now you want to save him." Michael is able to gain a step without her knowing. Her mind damaged from her fathers fresh words. "He told me the lives of his team was more important to him than anything-even his own life."

She cringes; tears continue to fall, but she never loses grip on her weapon.

"Ziva…" Tony tries for a steady voice. "Don't…listen…to them."

"Agent Gibbs is a coward!" Her father's voice rips through her even from behind. "He had no respect for Mossad from the very beginning." He forces himself forward; gaining on the two of them. "He took the life of your brother-and you let him!"

Michael wants to correct him, but he does not. In his opinion, Ziva has the right to suffer no matter if it be the truth or a lie.

The blood continues to pour from Tony's wounds. He feels himself grow weak in the knees; his hand begins to tremble.

Ziva is stuck in a world in torment. The clouds above her continue to pelt her with hail. Thunder rumbles the ground beneath her feet. The lightening zaps her straight to her heart.

She is growing tired. Her agitation is getting the best of her. The two men that she has known for all her life have crossed her completely. They have pained her-they have tore her to pieces…

…and they both want her dead.

So many lies. So many mistakes. She feels her heart weaken; an image of her previous teammates presents itself inside her pounding head.

Tony is finding it hard to breathe. The air is becoming stuffy; her father swiftly and quietly making his way closer to them. Tony inhales for a much needed breath.

"…think fast, Ziva." He mutters under his breath. "We haven't much time."

Michael's smile travels past her and becomes visible to her father. A clarification of their bond-even if they both have crossed each other, right now-Ziva is at fault.

"Even as you stare death in the face you are alongside an American." Her father pushes. "You would not be stupid enough to listen to his words."

Tony grits his teeth. His anger and his pain stabbing him all over his body.

"Ziva…" His voice warning. "Decision-NOW!"

"REMEMBER ZIVA-YOU NEED ME!" Michael begins his assault where her father left off.

"They're playing with you, Ziva." Tony warns her, his grip becoming firm again. "They're trying to make you give in-they're trying to kill you!"

"YOU NEED ME!"-Michael hollers.

"Americans…they're better off dead." Her father says in a strong voice.

"Don't listen to them, Ziva." Tony desperately tries to reason with her.

Her mind is spinning. Her heart is racing. The three men are invading her thoughts, twisting them in every direction.

Michael has the knowledge of Gibbs' whereabouts, but he has not spoken of McGee.

Her father knows all-the secrets to life as Mossad and all the wrong he has done and brought to people all across the seven seas.

They both hold the knowledge to help them in their rescue of Gibbs and McGee even if they did not make it through the tough trials and tortures of Mossad.

"I killed Ari." She speaks through the smog of heated stares and entrapments. "I murdered him in Gibbs' basement."

Her father inhales sharply for the first time. "…face me when you tell me something like this."

"You don't deserve it." She chokes out.

"Don't make me shoot you in the back."

At this comment, Tony grips his weapon even tighter; ready to fire at any sudden move from her father.

"I've already been stabbed from there." She hisses. "Repeatedly."

Her father's face twists with anger. "Do not blame your own flesh and blood for what the American did to you."

"The only thing the American did for me-"

Tony tries to calm her. "Don't give in-"

"…he helped me…" She tries to swallow her answer and digest it. "…he did all that he could do."

"He pushed you back into Mossad!"

"I PUSHED MYSELF BACK INTO MOSSAD!"

Tony takes a step backwards, but Director David does not see this. He is too fixed on Ziva's steady form and her difficult words.

From this angle Tony is able to see one side of her face. He flashes her a look, taking this moment as an advantage for the both of them.

Michael walks a step forward. "Director David, I am to believe Agent Gibbs and your daughter had more than professional relations."

Ziva's eyes twitch, but she stays silent.

"Is this true?" Her father asks, then waits for a few moment. "ANSWER ME!"

Tony holds his breath.

Ziva presses her lips together.

"I am to believe all the times you told me you loved me…you were being dishonest." Michael is using the moment for his own personal gain. "…or should I say all the times you did not tell me you loved me?"

She turns her neck to one side quickly.

She can feel the rage from her father radiating from behind her. His gaze burning holes into her head. She imagines his face red with frustration, rage, and dishonor.

Tony knows her next move. When she turns neck back; her features will line themselves directly to the direction of Michael-and he will die.

"Whatever _he_ did to you, he did for personal gain." Michael adds.

Two shots fill the air.

Two smoking guns fall to the floor.


	24. Visitors

**Chapter 24: Visitors**

Tony stands with his mouth gaped.

Director David is laying a few inches before him. A small pool of blood is beginning to stain his dress shirt and his tan colored suit jacket. Tony swallows, trying to keep a cry from escaping him. The gun he used to murder the Director of Mossad is brushing the tip of his boot-covered foot.

Ziva is leaning over Lior. With a few quick maneuvers, she removes his leather vest. It is out-dated and warn, his blood rolls against the slick material and makes droplets in the dirty floor.

Tony can not move, but he watches her closely. He nods to himself when she pulls a torn piece of paper from his left front pocket. After reading it, she throws it aside.

He clears his throat, remembering his wounds. He can feel the shock rushing out of him and guilt of the yet-to-come sinking inside of him.

Ziva unties the laces of Liors boots and slips his shoes off. Inside she finds another torn piece of paper and reads the scribbled words.

She pushes herself to her feet and in a few steps she is standing next to her partner.

"That better be a get out of jail free card." His attempt for humor brightens the dark feeling if only for a little bit.

"It is a map."

Tony catches the faded edges and the murky ink. "Like we can read that."

"I know where this is." She says quickly. "I will arrive there as soon as I get you to a hospital."

His eyes widen. "I think your priorities are crossed."

"You aren't any use to me now, Tony."

"Sure-after I kill your father."

She understands his feelings. She can see the uncertainty behind his tear-y eyes, but she knows she an not deal with him now.

"That is not what I meant." She pauses. "Without Michael and my father, there is no one to lead the assault."

"You think you're going to find them alive?"

She grabs his hand and begins to walk. He stays quiet, but his eyes can not help themselves and so they look at all the lifeless bodies scattered around the ground of the warehouse.

He knows now that the image will never leave him. In the entire history of his profession he never left this many for dead.

"You will get used to it, Tony."

The quietness in her voice makes him realize that she is only saying things to bring him some sort of comfort, and for that he can not be angry with her for doing.

They near the front entrance of the warehouse and it is there that he realizes she is doing her very best not to look back at the two men that made such an impact on her life.

"I could hold off a few more minutes…" His says easily. "…just in case you-"

"I've said goodbye to them a long time ago, Tony."

He steps aside to let her pass through the door first, and as she does, the eyes in the back of his head scan the warehouse for the final time.

* * *

Director Shepard passes through the double doors of the hospital. Her dress suit dark like the circles under her eyes that she desperately tried to hide with makeup before leaving her estate.

The past week has felt like an eternity of displeasure and torment. The only upside being the capture of Abby's stalker.

She appears in front of the service desk and looks kindly at the young nurse. With a flash of her badge and a verbal identification with details as to why she is there and what she wants, she is handed a visitors pass. A pass only given to those on their way to see a loved one in the ICU.

As her feet take her down the bright and white hallway, her stomach begins to knot itself. She stops to take a breath and allows herself a moment to regain her confidence that the two Agents she is about to see are well on their way to recovery.

Stepping inside quietly, she treats the floor beneath her feet like an invisible bridge of faith she hopes remains, even if slightly, between the wounded man and herself.

She reaches his bed gingerly because she is unsure on how to react. Somewhere inside she is grateful that he is sleeping, as wrong it sounds.

Slick steps behind her make her smile faintly. Tony comes closer to her and peers down at the leader of his team. She turns slightly, catching his bandaged shoulder and the fresh scab that is located on one side of his face. Her expression shifts even though she knew of his damage by telephone when he still had been in Tel Aviv.

He looks away from her because her stare begins to make him uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he rounds the hospital bed and rushes to the other side. A few machines beeps, but Gibbs does not movie a muscle.

"He wouldn't like us looming over him like this."

"He's asleep." Tony remarks. "He'll never know."

The Director smiles softly knowing that DiNozzo is rushing lies past his own lips in order to keep some sort of control-even if it only is on the task at hand.

"Abby here?" He questions, then falls back a bit to chuckle. "Don't answer that."

"Our dear Abby would have already assigned herself as Gibbs' personal guard." The Director says as she reacts to Gibbs' current state by touching his head softly. "Suppose he'll never know this?"

Tony waits for her to turn to look at him, but she does not. Her fingers travel through his hair slowly as if they were made of feathers. Her action makes Tony tense with hesitation and he begins to pull away from his boss' bedside.

The Director can feel the air shift, but she continues her actions knowing that this act of care is more for her comfort than it is for the man sleeping before her.

Just then a nurse enters and mentions that two people forms a problem in case of an emergency. Tony nods his understanding and as he moves to leave, the Director reaches for him.

"Stay."

He opens his mouth, wanting to tell her that he feels it is not his place. That inside, he is ripping apart with guilt for his leader's current state. That it is his fault the Batman to his Robin is defenseless while trying to pull himself out of the fine quicksand; that his Probie is suffering more mental damage than physical.

"I have a better chance of gaining access at any hour." She explains. "Stay."

He swallows and waits even as she nears the automatic glass doors and exits.

With his back facing the sleeping man, he cracks just a little bit more on the inside.

* * *

Abby stiffens as she sits next to her one and only. The only person to have such an impact on her life. The one she needs constant approval from. Her everything when her world turns upside down.

He is sleeping still. His disgusting hospital food hardly touched. She frowns, knowing he needs anything he can manage to keep down in order to be able to flee the restriction he finds himself lying in-yet part of her does not want to feel for him.

His silver hair makes her remember how much she always needs him, but his lips are devious. The lips that kept secrets from her when the going got tough. The same lips to assure her that he would return all put together, with McGee and Tony on his side.

She knew Gibbs had a slickness about him. A sly being embedded somewhere inside his very being, but she also knew that he never was one to play with her emotions. He delivered things to her in ways he did the others, but there was always something gentle about his interactions with her, and his advancements in her direction had always come correct.

He was her shoulder to cry on, but where would she go now that he was the one to bring her to tears? As the tears stream down her face, she stands abruptly from the lumpy hospital chair located on the side of his bed and turns her face roughly away from him as if all of his betrayal has hit her like a slap in the face.

_Forgiving_ did not want to come easy and she felt as if _forgetting_ never existed.

* * *

A cup of coffee lingers near her nervous hand as she waits for the exit of whomever his current visitor might be.

Tony had took his time going home so he said, but something in his eyes told Ziva that he was on his way to a place he could wallow in self pity and watch strange people in the world pass him by through a smeared glass window-until morning arrived and he found his way, whether by himself or by assistance, back to the hospital to witness his boss and drown in another guilt trip.

McGee had been released earlier in the morning. His wounds never could compare to Gibbs', but his state of being would have scarred him for the rest of life if they had not found him and rushed him to the hospital as quick as they had rushed Gibbs.

Times were tough and Ziva knew this. She saw the strain on the entire team now that the glue that kept the team together was fighting for his life. The realization made her gut twist and it made her begin a trip down the same road as her Italian friend.

The door clicking open breaks her train of guilt, but when she looks into Abby's misty eyes, she feels the train of guilt beginning to storm through her once again.

"Abby." She says as neutral as she can, but the look in Abby's eyes flash with raw hatred. Her eyes twist and they turn until they unleash a blaze of fire. "May I see him?"

Her asking of permission sounds strange-uneeded, but she is at a loss on how to speak to the angry scientist leaving her burning into ashes.

"Oh sure, Ziva-you want to see him now that he's dying."

"He is not dying, Abby." Her tone full of frustration. "He just needs time to heal."

"Easy for you to say." She lets the door click into place as she begins to pace casually around Ziva, making sure that a hospital official or security guard does not notice her fighting tactic. "Figures you wouldn't know a thing about Gibbs-"

"Ab-"

"You wouldn't know how tormented he was when _it_ happened."

Ziva begins to harden. She feels Abby attacking her and for the first time she is unable to properly contain the situation or be the one to control it.

"Gibbs was bordering on becoming an alcoholic." Her word scold her deeply. "He nearly floored McGee. He played DiNozzo for losing connection-"

Abby stops herself as she sees Ziva's eye twitching. "Don't stand there and say nothing, Ziva!"

"We might never have worked out our differences, but we made sure that we both understood our positions and what needed to be done before I left…again."

Abby crosses her arms over her chest protectively though Ziva is the one in need of extra armor. "I might have believed that if you hadn't left him a letter-if you didn't burn his eyes with so much bullshit-"

"You do not understand, Abby!" Her anger is beginning to show itself in the place of her pain. "You will never understand, Abby!"

"Oh yeah?" The Goths' tone is challenging, but it is a challenge that does not appeal to Ziva. "You don't have any right being here."

"I was the one to find him." Ziva grasps for any means of defense.

"Yeah-and he was the one to risk his life looking for you."

"He went looking for DiNozzo!"

"And Tony risked his life looking for you, too!" Ziva shakes her head in a poor manner. "The only problem is you're too full of yourself to realize just how much you hurt them…the team…us." Ziva opens her mouth, but she can not speak. "At the end of the day you've left us all with a burden…especially Gibbs."

Sitting down for a moment, she tries to clear her head with a few deep breaths. Abby stands still with her arms still crossed. She acts as if she is a guard specifically assigned to protecting Gibbs.

As Ziva looks to her again, she begins to understand that her needs and her wants are not as important as Abby's. The way her eyes glisten and the way her lip trembles every so often alerts Ziva that she is closer to the breaking point-one she has done her best to keep hidden; one she is completely frightened to reach.

The Israeli rises out of her seat, clasping her arms in front of her.

"When he wakes, I hope you are with him."

Abby opens her mouth, wanting a snooty remark to come barreling out-but Ziva surprises her and so she stands there with her mouth slightly open.

Ziva inhales and begins to walk down the hallway she walked down minutes before.


	25. First Name

**Chapter 25: First Name**

Timothy McGee sits uncomfortably on his computer chair. The monitor is blank-his computer completely shut off. The ticking from his wrist-watch makes him nervous and so he unbuckles it and throws it to the opposite side of the room.

The ticking is frightening. It had been the only means of remembrance while he was being held captive by Mossad. This action makes him remember to stop all the ticking in each clock within his apartment.

He has no one to help him deal with his thoughts. Thankfully, they never seem to overpower his better judgment, but his confidence that had began to increase feels as if it has slipped back to its' past position.

The buzzing of his doorbell snaps him out of his own silence. He stands from his chair, more comfortable now that he is putting his body in a different position-now that he is _able_ to move.

Standing behind his apartment door, he looks to a baseball bat he dug out of his box of childhood things he seldom made time for. As his fingers go for the base, the buzzard buzzes again and causes him to snatch his fingers back.

"McGee, it is Ziva!"

He pauses for a few more moments, afraid that his hearing has been damaged and that the person on the opposite side of the door is not someone familiar.

The buzzard buzzes once more, but he still feels unsure about the situation so he grabs for the bat.

"Look through the hole in your door!"

He sighs, remembering it finally. Leaning into the door with his hand pressed flatly against it, he relaxes when he notices her face.

As he opens the door, he hides the bat behind it as to not look more foolish than he already feels.

"Peep-hole." He says while looking at her.

"What?" She questions.

"The hole in the door-they call it a 'peep-hole'."

"That is ridiculous." She comments and politely waits.

He opens the door wider and steps out of the way. With a small nod of his head, he allows her to enter his home.

She enters smoothly, leaving the door frame untouched by her arms or her legs.

He closes the door and locks it. An instant flashback to Abby's ex-boyfriend managing to find his way into his apartment leaves him with a sour taste in the air.

She takes in his apartment. It is the same as she last saw it and she it makes her smile calmly. The mere sight of something so familiar brings a smile that covers her entire face and a comfort that warms her very soul.

McGee notices her expression and forms a smile of his own, though small. He takes a breath and opens his hand indicating she is allowed to make herself at home.

"Want something to drink?"

"I haven't come here for refreshments, McGee."

He nods, but disappears to grab himself a glass of the water. With this time alone, Ziva tries to calm her racing mind.

"What brings you here?" He asks moments later as he finds a seat on his computer chair once again.

"How are you?"

He blinks once, then twice. Clearing his throat, he finds his tall glass of water. The liquid wets his dry mouth, but it does nothing to settle his nerves.

"Fine."

She takes his lie because she knows it is not one of distrust, but one of pride. Reaching a hand out for his arm, he does not allow it.

"It is okay, McGee."

"…just a reflex, I…I guess." He shrugs casually, trying to appear stronger than he feels at the moment. "…just a reflex, that's all…"

Inwardly she frowns at the sight of him and his reactions to physical contact, but on the outside she is proud at his ability to hold it together as best as he can.

Still, she can not stop the tears from dancing on the brim of her eyes.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Ziva." Tim is on his feet within a second. "I'm sure it's something that'll pass with time…it has to…" He crumbles a bit. "…right?"

"It is within yourself, McGee." She swallows and inhales, trying to keep her tears from spilling. "You will be fine."

"Then why are you so upset?" He takes a step back, knowing his question is foolish. "I mean…why are you…really here, Ziva?"

"I told you that already. I am here to see how you are doing." She uses her hand to quickly rub her tears away.

"I'm here." He shrugs. "…a phone call could have done." He takes his seat in his computer chair for the third time, only this time he pushes it closer to her. "…you should be with Gibbs…we all should be taking turns visiting him."

Fresh tears begin to form, this time slipping past the brim of her eyes.

Knitting his eyes, he tries to understand. "Gibbs'll be alright."

"It isn't that."

"Then what is it?" His hand reaches for her arm, but she pushes herself off his couch in order to try and clear her head. "Ziva?"

"I have been rejected."

"For what? By who?"

"For being self-cornered."

"Self-cornered?" He thinks for a few moments. "You mean, 'self-centered'?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't make any sense." He stands, wanting to join her, but she is pacing in every which direction. "Ziva, stop pacing-and tell me what's going on!"

At the shrill of his voice, she stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes are large and glistening. She looks at her former partner and grits her teeth before finding the strength to open her mouth.

"Abby." She shakes her head from side to side. "…and I don't blame her one bit."

"Abby told you that you weren't allowed to see Gibbs?" His face twists. "She doesn't have the authority to make that call." He mutters lowly. "Abby's got no right to do what she is doing."

"She does." Ziva shrugs slightly. "…she is only there to protect him."

"She's only there to protect herself." McGee shoots in Ziva's direction. "I know Abby, Ziva-and as much as she takes it into her hands to protect Gibbs, she needs him more than he does her."

"She has a point, Mcgee-she has every right to be angry."

"Abby's got every right to be _grateful_." He sighs loudly. "When Gibbs left, he made sure Abby had the best protection he could find. He made the Director watch over her-how many people get that privilege?"

His question leaves her dumbfounded.

"If that's why you're here-if that's what's bothering you…I'll go to the hospital with you-"

"I do not need your protection, McGee."

"My intentions aren't to protect you, they are only to _help _you." He pauses for a moment. "The last time I had a conversation with Gibbs it had been before we were split up and taken to our own torture quarters-we _argued_,actually…and then he was gone and I was alone…he was alone. Deep down I knew I shouldn't had let pettiness interrupt our mission, but I let it get in the way because I was freaking out…and in doing so we both wasted time fighting with one another instead of focusing on trying to make it out alive…instead of finding Tony…instead of finding _you_…" He sighs loudly for the second time. "I let you down, Ziva…in my own personal way, I let you down…because you are my friend and I think you always have been."

She holds her breath, trying to slow the river that is rolling down her cheeks and splashing onto the floor.

"If you _need_ to see him…because of _everything_…because of _anything_…I'm right there with you because I…_need_ to see him, _too_…regardless of how good it felt to tell him how I truly felt…I owe him an apology."

"What if he isn't awake?"

"He's Gibbs. He'll remember." He smiles slightly.

She finds his hand with her own and gives it a light squeeze.

* * *

A nurse stops them before they are able to enter. Scanning the front of their shirts she looks for any existence of a visitors pass. In seconds, McGee and Ziva pull them from their pockets to show her.

"One at a time." She orders while handing them back.

"Isn't there one already inside?" He questions.

"The pig-tailed girl? Nah-we sent her home." She lets the information sink in. "She seemed so clingy-even fell asleep in the chair even when we suggested she leave to get some rest. She a family member?"

"…she's Abby…" McGee says with a grin.

The nurse gives him a funny look, but decides not to ask anything more. "One at a time." She reminds them.

"Yes ma'am." McGee says politely.

"Don't call me ma'am." She retorts.

Ziva grins at the nurses reaction, but soon falls into a comfortable, yet slightly alarming position with her friend.

"You first." Their voices mix in unison.

"I…"

"You should go first, McGee." She says firmly. "It is only right."

"How so?"

"Please…I've waited this long to get to where I am…I can wait longer."

He opens his mouth, a question begging to fall from his lips, but a question he does not feel right in asking.

"Go." She says quietly. "You are a member of his team."

"Ziva-"

"She's right, Probie."

Ziva turns to look at her battered ex-partner. Seeing him once again brings a weight that settles on her already sunken shoulders. "Tony."

"The one and only…" He hums shortly, his eyes glossy and miserable.

"Tony-" McGee begins.

"You heard what she said, Probie-now get in there!" He chirps, forcing a smile on his face. "You've earned it."

"Tony, I've-"

"Put up with our shit all this time…" He shakes his head from side to side slightly. "…can't find another person in this room that deserves to go before all of us."

With his team member and his former team member urging him with their eyes, he loses the battle and agrees. Turning around, he enters and begins his journey to finding some sort of common ground or some sort of peace with his team leader-even if he lays there asleep.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later there still is no sight of McGee. The clock on the wall continues to tick and the nurses within the unit continue to buzz.

Ziva sits diagonally from Tony; there she takes in his appearance and wonders how long it will take for him to say something.

A pretty nurse becomes close enough to grab his attention, but he ignores her as if his senses have been yanked from him.

"If you were truly as how I remember you, Tony, you would have been drooling…as they say in America."

He offers her a smile, but the force behind it offends her ever-so-slightly.

"How bad has it been, Tony?"

He looks at her with confusion.

"The drinking-how bad has it been?"

"Not bad…" He sighs. "…nothing…worth giving a single thought, to."

"It is worth a million thoughts if you feel that you are becoming dependant on it."

"I'm not." His voice gruff. "Just something that knocks the chill off every once in a while."

"This is serious!"

"I KNOW THAT!" He shatters, breaking his rest in the chair with an upright outburst. "This isn't about me-now-OKAY?"

Several nurses notice the commotion, but linger in the background waiting for any more rude actions from the troubled man.

"To-"

"Let it go Ziva, or so help me God…" He points his finger at her as he tries to calm his shaky voice. "Leave it alone…leave ME alone…"

"You are foolish to let this consume you!" She barks at him like a mad animal. "Gibbs went down this road and unfortunately there wasn't anyone that was able to get through that thick head of his. Do not make the same mistake-do not do this to yourself…you don't deserve this type of torture."

"What kind do I deserve?" He snorts. "Come on Ziva, they could have died out there-in _their_ hands, and what for? All because I wanted to be a hero? No…" He shakes his head. "That wasn't big of me at all-it was stupid of me-" He sighs loudly, rubbing his hands over his face. "My ego has come right back around to bite me in the ass."

"This isn't the Tony that came for me."

"And _this_ isn't the outcome I had foreseen."

"One can not predict the future."

"It's in us-our training." He tries to make her understand. "You didn't get a chance to fully absorb it until…" He clears his throat. "I know Gibbs, when one of his Agents disappears, he drops everything to find them; he makes it his mission." He laughs heartlessly. "I led the bastard on and unfortunately he had to take along the only Agent left with enough seniority despite the skills he lacks."

"You are belittling McGee."

"I'm telling the truth!" His voice cracks. "What do ya think, Ziva? Ya think McGee in there is keeping a stiff upper-lip? This has nothing to do with my constant teasing of him-this has to do with the fact that he just wasn't ready."

"Yet he was obligated to be a part of it." She dislikes the taste in her mouth. "McGee knows how he feels and what he must do. I suggest you use your time to focus on what you need to do in order to save yourself."

"Ever thought about taking your own advice?" He throws at her like a stick of dynamite.

"My position has nothing to do with this-"

"…and so the saga continues…" Resting his head back against the wall, he hums low in this throat. "Ah, Ziva…Ziva…Ziva…" He lifts the back of his head off the wall a little so he is able to look at her. "You have felt. You have known…yet you never did…"

She blinks and turns her eyes to the empty area over his head. "I took time for granted…" Her eyes begin to tear, but she goes against letting them fall. "…I took everyone for granted."

The sight of her troubled face pains him even through the bitterness of the alcohol. "…maybe we all did…" His eyes try to find her own, but she refuses to look at him.

A soft click turns their attention to McGee. His eyes slightly swelling and his face damp.

Ziva then turns to Tony; finding his eyes instantly.

"Maybe."

* * *

His eyes would keep her grounded, but instead they stay closed as she tries to find a comfortable spot inside the cold and empty hospital room. Somewhere she can stand; somewhere that is not far from the door in case any amount of questionable anger would flare up inside of him once he saw her face.

She felt unusually juvenile whenever she dealt with the issue of facing _him_. Her wrong-doings were hers only even if she wanted to lead Tony into believing that they each played a role in the destruction that surrounded the group.

Still, she felt a force pulling her towards his bedside. Once there, she felt her hand being lifted by a force she did not want to claim as her own, and soon made contact with his hand. It lay still and bandaged, but the tips of his fingers were visible to her.

The knowledge of this made her hold her breath, her mind telling her she should keep away from them, but her heart telling her that the only way to bring her some sort of comfort for what has happened is if she will touch even the tiniest bit of his skin.

So her fingers lay on top of the bandage, slowly inching their way to his bare skin, and then the door opens.

She pulls her hand back abruptly, turning completely around to face the unnamed red head fully. Ziva knits her eyebrows for a second, then an automatically a flashback plays inside of her head.

"Hello, I am…" She stops herself short as she realizes that everything she once was is no more. "…Ziva David…I've worked closely with Gibbs once before."

The red head grins, but she does not speak. Coming over to him, she touches his face gently. This action causes Ziva's eyes to fall to the floor and there she studies her feet. Suddenly the slight comfort in the room is replaced with a feeling of not belonging.

"Will he be okay?"

"We are hoping." Ziva offers quietly. Her eyes fall from the side of the woman's face to her hand that continues to touch the pale flesh on his face. "I should go."

"Stay." The woman withdraws her hand. "Only passing through."

"Who are you?" The words slip past the former Mossad's mouth.

"A friend." The woman says calmly before giving him one final look and exiting his hospital room.

As the door clicks into place, a weight that had developed on top of Ziva's shoulders melts away into the clean air. Inhaling sharply, she turns around slowly and watches as the sleeping make wakes at that very moment.

"Gibbs." She voices herself quickly.

Closing his eyes, he opens them after a few seconds. He lays there staring at her, lips unmoving and body completely still.

Ziva behaves in the same way except she is standing rather than lying down. Her neck throbs as her shoulders stiffen in an uncomfortable manner.

The expression on his face is somewhat blank, but somewhat uncertain. The distrust in his face is for her alone and she knows it better than she knows her own social security number. It is almost as if he is silently telling her that her presence is not welcome and he wants her to leave.

She can feel her jaw clenching and unclenching every few seconds, but she is frozen into place. Her mind screaming at her to leave, but her heart telling her that she needs to go through with what she originally planned.

"Gibbs…" She tries again.

His neutral expressions turns into a frown full of so many unrespectable emotions. Turning away from her, he settles his gaze outside the large windows to his left.

"You got something to say-" He states as gruffly as he can. "Then spit it out…"

Her tongue stays in place as her insides begin to crush with anticipation of hearing her last name being thrust in the open, but suddenly he turns to look at her again. His expression still unnerving and cold, but his eyes flashing with something else she is unfamiliar with.

"…_Ziva_." He says quietly.


	26. I Remember the Words You Wrote

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for your kind and very detailed reviews. Now I think I can grasp the fact that I could very well be doing something right. The reviews are so kick-ass...I should try to kick my own ass, but that's not going to happen (That'd be too DiNozzo of me, wouldn't it?-ahh...I alway pick at him, don't I?). Anyway, I hope that everyone continues to enjoy this fic and that I hope the reviews keep on coming in. I enjoy them more than words can explain. I'll seriously catch all ya'll on the flip side. Later Days!**-Geek** (Sabrina).

**Chapter 26: I Remember the Words You Wrote**

Her hands collide in a small burst of nerves as a fake laugh leaves her throat, making her feel like a rotten, stupid liar. "Where do I begin..." She is speaking out-loud, somewhere inside hoping he has spontaneously become hard of hearing.

He feels disappointment in her starting to settle inside the pit of his weak stomach, but he stays quiet, wanting her to have the decency to utter two words he seldom accepts from anybody.

Words upon words are starting to create a looming tower inside her brain. She feels her head expanding in directions she never knew it could, but she can not help it. "Gibbs I'm..."

His head turns at a slant, making his neck work for the angle. His eyes are full of waiting, but she feels his eyes are playing tricks on her. The thought alone makes her turn her head and begin to pace; she is embarrassed for thinking of such a thing.

"Don't say anything you shouldn't say." The words fly from his mouth as if it were rapid fire.

His words leave her even more confused. She begs for him to ease back into a deep sleep so she is able to make her way out of his room and give Tony the turn he rightfully deserves.

A slight summer breeze consumes the nearby tree outside of his window, causing a large branch to smack against the glass. His ears twitch on instinct, but his eyes never leave hers.

"Don't say anything you wouldn't say." His words are said sorely, causing her weakness to increase.

She feels hatred because of the control he has over the situation, but her thoughts are so tangled she is not able to find something to say.

He can sense her delay, but the way his body feels from the extreme torture pains him to his very core. He wants to scream out in rage, but he does not want her to consume all of his anger as if she is the only one that caused it.

"Don't say anything you couldn't...say." He grits his teeth as one of his hands twitches, the bandage scraping gently against the flesh that is open at his knuckles.

"DAMN IT, GIBBS!" Her tone is a frustrated whisper.

"That all you can say?" He raises an eyebrow; his lips forming a thin line.

"If you are doing this to spite me-to make things harder for me, stop it!"

"Why should I?" He growls, wanting nothing more than to stand from his bed and face her full on. Instead, he must lay there, watching her pace before his bed. "You have any idea what you've done to the team?"

"I have made my peace with them..." A mental image of Abby flashes before her. "...with _most_ of them and they've come to accept me."

"You think that's anything to feel proud about?" His tone is raw and unfiltered. "You put_ their_ lives on the line-you put _our_ lives on the line."

"Sometimes things such as this...happen."

"That's not good enough." He shrugs, throwing his gaze to the window. "Nope, not good enough-not for my team-not for the people I care about!" He wants to hear a statement from her, but she chooses not to speak. "Damn it, Ziva...haven't I taught you anything? Haven't you learned anything?" He snaps his neck to find her eyes, but she is purposely refusing to look at him. "You're supposed to be responsible for your own bullshit and if backup is required, we all rush in full force. That's the way it works. You're not supposed to write a goddamn letter explaining to me why you can't seem to be completely honest with what you're doing, where you're going, and just why the fuck things are happening-"

"I was in no position to be completely honest!"

"Then you're not as worthy as I once thought!" He corners her with his words and they pin her to the wall that stands tall directly in the center right smack-dab in front of him.

"This is something I can not change. Time can not turn its self around!" She sighs heavily. "I will not tell you that I was entirely correct with my decisions, but I never once fell back on what I chose to do until..."

"One of my finest decided to become a Legend." He laughs bitterly. "Yeah, he's an Legend alright-killing the Director of Mossad really has its perks." He can hear the low hum from her general direction; it stands as a muffled cry. He feels like a bastard for tormenting her in this way, but he is too fired up to change his tune. "Thanks to the situation you put him, Tony's got a real long way to travel down the already broken road he's already on."

Her eyes light with fire. "I did not break that road." Her finger can not help, but point at him. "Do you understand?"

"Roads don't break...all by themselves." He smirks. "Roads are driven on...walked on-_-plowed _on...then they begin to chip and crumble...then comes the pot holes and then comes the decisions to either fix whats been broken or to walk away as if everything on that road doesn't really matter anymore."

"The Director of NCIS took advantage of Tony!"

"You took advantage of my team!"

She balls her hands into tight fists and they come to rest on the sides of her head in misery.

"I can not...do this, Gibbs." Her eyes are squeezed shut. "I can not...take this...not _again_."

"You're right." He finds himself sweating, as his will begins to diminish. "It isn't worth it."

"I did not say that." She is stressing uncontrollably.

"No...but you wrote it...in your letter." His face draws a far away landscape that only she is familiar of knowing. "_Perhaps we are ships that pass in the night...I'm afraid to believe that our time to mend our broken friendship has fallen short...and can never be corrected...I am truly sorry our time had been a limited supply we used so poorly..._" He swallows the lump in his throat, finding it hard to keep himself together, but needing to find any means of strength in order to continue. "You left me...to make the team _understand_ that your leaving was never intended...how the hell was I supposed to do that when you left without making _me_ understand first?"

With her face pale, her breath catches in her throat. She tries to move, but she can not. Never did she think he would remember her words exactly as they were.

His eyes find hers and with her unshed tears, they shown a reflection of his pitiful self; laying in a hospital bed, so many bandages and so many wounds both inside and out.

"What happened between us...with Kyle Branson...we put the best lid we could put on that, but we did that _together_...what you did towards whatever friendship we could have had...shutting it down as if any sliver of possible hope never existed...you did that _alone_."

The discussion officially becomes deeper and the need for her to say something is finally forcing its way to the surface, then there is a loud knock to interrupt her.

Their attention falls on the door of the hospital room and before either can prepare themselves, Abby swooshes through the door and looks as if she is about to jump on top of Gibbs as he lay completely still.

As she nears the bed at a rapid pace, a horrified nurse begins to open her mouth to yell for her, but then closes it quickly as Abby stops abruptly in front of his hospital bed. Bending down, she pulls him into a light and gentle hug, squeezing her eyes shut as if he is a teddy bear.

Ziva blinks back her tears, but a few manage to escape. Wiping them away with the back of her hand, she can sense Tony and McGee staring at her from outside the hospital room.

"Gibbs you're awake!"

"I know that, Abs." He offers her the smile he never could find for the former Mossad lingering in the shadows of his room. "I heard Agent Huntington caught the guy."

"You betcha!" She squeals, pulling up her chair and parking it to the side of his hospital bed. "Want all the gore-y details?"

Ziva takes a step back, knocking her shoulder into the corner she never knew she pushed herself into. A nurse looks to her and notifies her with a nod that two visitors is a crowd the Hospital can not stand to have.

Gibbs looks past Abby's shoulder to look at her, causing Abby to turn around slightly.

Tony and McGee are observing the situtation from outside, but neither is moving because he they want to absorb the actions of all the characters on the storyboard at this very particular moment.

"We finished?" He asks her flatly.

Fresh tears begin to form in her eyes, causing her to nod her head quickly. Looking to her side, she slips out of the door to his room and comes face to face with Tony and McGee. As the door behind her closes softly, she can almost hear the muffled voices of the Marine and the Goth.

"You gonna let her do that to you, David?" Tony's voice is calm, yet stern.

"I didn't let her-he did." She inhales, then exhales slowly. "I told her she deserved to be the first one to see him wake...I robbed her of that right."

"Come on, Ziva...you had no control of when he was going to wake up." Tony pushes. "It's not like he was in a coma...he probably saw Abby a million times over already...lying awake as she slept in that very chair she clearly put her _name_ on."

"It doesn't matter!" Ziva snaps, her anger finally controlling her better judgement.

"What's that supposed to mean?" McGee asks quietly.

"It means that..." She shuts her eyes and swallows, her face paling even more. "...that what they have with each other is something I will never have with Gibbs."

"What are you talking about, Ziva?" Tony demands, his eyes burning into hers.

"Friendship."

The men watch her eyes become large and blank; her expression wounded and defeated.

"He couldn't have said that...he wouldn't have said that..." Tony swallows, feeling light-headed. "...would he?"

With her expression lost, she pushes one foot in front of the other until she reaches the end of the hospital hallway.

McGee sighs harshly, trying to make it past Tony in other to catch up with her, but Tony holds him back. "Let go-come on, I can't just leave her like this-_we_ can't just leave her like this!"

"Let her go, McGee." Tony's throat is tight and his eyes ablaze. "Let her find out what a true bastard Gibbs can be."

"Tony-"

"No...that's what he is, McGee-he's a bastard." Though Ziva has disappeared from sight, he still stares in the direction she once was before.

"We don't know what happened in there!" McGee argues. "Don't...do this, Tony. Stop...picking sides...stop...going back and forth." McGee tries to move forward, this time not getting held back by Tony. "...it isn't worth it."

"What do you know about worth, McGee?" He squints his tired eyes. "Gibbs threw you into the lions den like a piece of raw meat-did he know your worth?"

McGee opens his mouth to answer, but the words can not form.

"Did he really think you had it in you to conquer whatever obstacles would be thrown in your direction?" He huffs. "Nah...he just took what was left of the team."

McGee begins to feel anger rise within him. Tony's words are taunting him and teasing him.

"Didn't bother to care about what how you felt about Abby being followed by some mad man!" He emphasis's with a loud tone of voice. "He didn't bother to_ trust_ you with protecting her-_his favorite_, now did he McGee?"

"Stop it, Tony..." He warns.

"Not with Abby...not with the same person who's getting some sort of victory over tormenting Ziva-"

"Abby...Ziva...Abby..." He twists with confusion. "Ziva..."

"How's it feel, McGee?" Tony questions. "Huh? ... how's it feel to be torn between two members of the team?"

"Why are you doing this to me, Tony?" He grows embarrassed at the crack in his voice.

"TO SHOW YOU!" His tone is a violent whisper. "...to show you that if Gibbs doesn't change his attitude, our team will never be put back together again."

The confusion is still alive, but in some twisted way, Tony is making sense to him.

"So this is about Gibbs-"

"It's about _all of us_, McGee...if we want to be able to decide as a group...to _trust_ as a group...we need our_ Team Leader_. He's the only one that can put us back _together_ again."


	27. Living for the Night

**Author's Note:** _My...the reviews are coming from every which way these days...I love it! I'm really glad people see a lot of the "gray" areas...that not everybody is perfect or set to a certain standard. I do my best to keep it as well-rounded as I can (with a main, yet not so in your face focus on Gibbs and Ziva-after all, these are the two main characters after all)...just so it can appeal to many types of fans. Then again like two of my good friends have said in previous years...write to find an audience rather than write for an audience-and I'm so into that very line._

_I hope everybody continues to enjoy the fic. I know I say that a whole lot, but it took a very long time to get to where we are now in the fic...On some days I thought it'd never get here (especially with the Hiatus I took in-between because of real life events and what not), but I'm glad to be here-aren't you guys?_

_It's tough...there's a lot of love for these characters and clearly a lot of hate for these characters. It's what's to expected, but I hope that in the end...there'll be qualities left in all characters that will serve as a reason to redeem themselves. What do ya'll say about that? ... Hopefully that happens, LMAO-knowing me and when I get in the mood to write...there's seriously NO telling what'll happen!_

_Stay tuned and have a great read. Later Days!_**-Geek**

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* * *

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**Chapter 27: Living for the Night**

The thick summer air prevents any form of air circulation; it cuts any passing of wind completely off. Even with her skin feeling sticky she continues to walk along the sidewalk as she closes in on her fifth lap. Staying in shape is the least bit on her mind; her activity only a prevention from sitting down on a bench and letting the moist air consume her.

The quietness of the outdoors at such an hour serve as a soothing ambience to the hundreds of thoughts rushing through her mind; each hitting a wall inside her mind and bouncing back into the ring to go another round.

Her situation is so unlike herself. The pity gremlins are washing ashore and invading her. She feels the prickle of tears ready to spill, but the feeling vanishes as soon as her anger flares up in tiny spurts.

Her life is a mess.

Her _relationships _damaged.

Her misery in _complete_ control.

* * *

The bottle of scotch falls on its side as his fingers try to find the television remote. Old Chinese food cartons with food still left inside are rotting on every empty space his coffee table can provide. Empty shot glasses litter the small circular rug under the table; dried saliva and sweat stick to the glasses causing a sickening smell to fill the air inside his apartment.

DVDs are laying, scratched, on the top of his television; their proper cases thrown around the room as if they are not of any use to him anymore. The lamps on the end-tables of his lumpy couch are stable, but their bulbs of blown; a replacement for them hardly a thought in his mind.

He _likes_ the darkness.

The lack of artificial light or direct sunlight bring him comfort as he staggers into his bathroom to relieve himself. As he finishes, he feels the crave of more liquor, causing him to attack the bathroom sick with such violent motions the water sprays at him in every direction. Shaking the water from his hands, he steps on top of the hand-towel that is now laying helpless on his darkened bathroom floor and rushes into his kitchen.

Inside the cabinet to the right of his stove is where he keeps his collection. Pulling out the barely eaten cereal boxes, he stacks them sloppily on top of the counter at his waste, causing a handful of the boxes to crash to the floor. Pushing his arm further inside the cabinet, he grabs the brand new bottle of scotch he had hoped to save for a special occasion.

"He never has a reason to drain a bottle of bourbon, why should I?" Tony asks himself aloud.

Gritting his teeth from the anger that flares unexpectedly these days, he unscrews the cap and takes a chug straight from the bottle. The liquid burns his throat slightly, but it is something he has unfortunately grown attached to. He feels his stomach twist, but soon it fades and soon more of his sweet pleasure rushes into the pit of his stomach.

Turning around, he leans his hip against the counter, gripping the bottle as if it were a tall glass of refreshing orange juice. Closing his eyes, he claims more of the heavy liquid; leaving it in his mouth and swishing it around before finally consuming it properly.

As his eyes begin to open, he catches sight of his weapon and badge lying next to each other on the small table by his apartment door. Swallowing his sickness, he holds the bottle to his lips, wanting to attach his mouth to it until it becomes hollow with emptiness-but he _can't_ seem to do it.

With his fingers interlaced and resting behind his head, he listens to the tiny creatures that try to find their way through the darkness. Their sounds are entering his bedroom through his open window, but their existence comforts him as he does not feel the terror of being alone.

He needs a _visitor_. Someone to occupy his small apartment until he is able to cope with his problems-his _nightmares_.

He inhales, looking to the side of him and sees the card of the psychiatrist that has the power to help several agents along with their troubles. Exhaling, he looks away; feeling uncomfortable with the idea.

He thinks of Tony; even with the newfound respect for each other, he can feel the _pressure_ of his torment and his childish antics, causing his feeling to be heart.

He thinks of Ziva; her _encouragement_ will be only half, as the other half would try him for whatever strength within himself he is unable to get a hold of, causing himself to feel weaker.

He thinks of Abby; her _nurturing_ will be welcomed and needed in some sort of selfish way, but the rationalism will get the better of him, causing him to feel angry.

He thinks of Gibbs; his _attempt_ at embracing a form of outside help will flutter into the regions of disapproval on how he can not adjust himself with self-help, causing him to feel useless.

He thinks of Ducky; his empowering wisdom and his complete _understanding_ will support him, causing him to find the comfort that he finds himself needing.

Unlinking his fingers, he props himself up in bed and reaches for the cordless phone and the card. After a few rings, Ducky's greets his late night caller with a cheerfulness that can not be erased.

"Ducky, it's McGee."

"Ah, Timothy-what seems to be the reason you are calling at such an ungodly hour?" McGee pauses after hearing the question.

"...I _need_ your help, Ducky."

* * *

He can hear the footsteps outside his door and a burst of annoyance washes over his face within seconds. It is her, back again to do some more damage to his already tormented mind and body.

Her red hair appears freshly cut; her nails professionally done and business-like. The perfect outfit to go with her claws and her fangs; two things he _seldom_ likes to remember.

"It's good to see you, Jethro."

He accepts her good words, but he can not find the strength to give her any of his own at the very moment.

She understands his position, but the reality of the situation makes her push her feet forward as determination grows in her mind.

"I understand that this matter is easier handled by those which are unbiased, but this is also a matter that needs to be handled professionally and properly." She watches him close his eyes as if he is not paying her any attention. "The image of NCIS lies on every decision you do or do not make, Gibbs."

He smirks at the mention of his last name, but he chooses to continue listening with his eyes closed.

"One of our own murdered the Director of Mossad." She waits for a few more moments until the quietness begins to bother her on a higher level. "Damn it, Gibbs-Answer me!"

His eyes slowly open; her outburst expected as soon as she made herself visible.

"What do you want me to say, Jen?" He waits for her to give him an answer, but she can not seem to find one at the very moment. "DiNozzo got caught in the crossfire. It's unfortunate…but he did what he was trained to do."

"Your Agents are trained to interrogate civilians, not kill them."

"Director David was not your average civilian."

"That's besides the point!" Her yell is piercing; driving straight into his ears and rattling his brain a little.

"It's not a matter of what is more esthetically pleasing to you, Jen-we're talking about three former Mossads' caught in a crossfire with one of our own-"

"You aren't being fair, Gibbs. Ziva was on Tony's side."

"Was she?" His question is powerful, yet simple. "None of us know what happened in that warehouse. We've all been told the story like it's some sort of folklore. That's it-nothing more. We don't know what happened!"

"Don't be so _stupid_, Jethro." She hisses, his attitude making her stomach twist. "Despite all the _damages_, it is petty for you to assume that Ziva set up the game play-that she wanted to _cross_ you by using one of your Agents to kill her own father."

"It's not petty." He mutters.

Crossing her arms, she centers in on his face from the foot of his bed.

"Tryin' to seduce me, Jen?"

Her eyes turn to stone as her cheeks flush. He is not reading her mind, instead he is trying to push her over the edge.

"All these years I tried to understand why it had been so difficult for you to forgive me for what I didn't allow so many years ago." Her words interest him, so he listens closely as she opens her mouth to continue. "I walked away from the relationship we had because I had chosen to focus on my career rather than being the woman you woke up next to every morning."

"Make your point, Jen." His annoyance sprouts up like a wildfire.

"There isn't a reason why, Jethro. I never needed to _understand _why, that assignment belonged to you!" She uncrosses her arms, but never leaves the position she is in. "…and the same can be said for _this_."

He wants to tell her she is wrong, but he begins to feel the aches in his body returning quickly; an indication that he needs some sort of painkiller. Staying quiet, he tries to avoid breaking into a sweat.

"It's unfortunate you are acting just as stupidly as you did years ago, but I suppose every person has their faults." She smirks coldly at him.

"Damn it Jen, put a lid on it!"

She can sense his discomfort, but she knows that he is not in any type of danger.

"The first time Ziva left, she was in a dark place; the second time Ziva left, she was in no position to provide details-"

"You don't know the half of it!"

"…and neither do you." Her eyes soften against her will. "…you know _all_ of it, Jethro…"

His eyes open with a wideness she has hardly seen before.

"_Do_ something about it."

"Ya know Jen, maybe I just can't fucking be bothered with doing something about it." The coldness in his tone even makes him shiver slightly, but he continues anyway. "…just…just get the hell out!"

"Jet-"

"I SAID GET OUT!" He reaches for his call bell, ready to press it rapidly if she does not listen to his orders. "I SAID OUT! DAMN IT JEN, GET OUT!"

His rage puts her off entirely causing her to spin around on her heels and flee his hospital room.

Laying back against his pillows, he clears his throat and tries to understand what had just taken place and why. Shaking his head slightly, he sees a nurse enter; the look on her face indicating she had heard his outburst. Sheepishly he nods at her and inwardly sighs in relief as he notices what is on the tray she is carrying.

"Hurt much?" She asks as easily as she can.

"…yeah…" He says quietly as he watches her prep the needle for injection.

"This'll knock you right out until sometime tomorrow morning."

"Hit me with your best shot." He rasps lowly; his grin forced and lifeless.


	28. The Meeting Outside

**Author's Note:** Let's hear it THREE times for the readers that KEEP this going. Without it, this fic would not be what it is. Thanks for the reviews and enjoy the chapter! Catch ya on the flip side, LATER DAYS._**-Geek**_.

* * *

**Chapter 28: The Meeting Outside**

Posted up, against a piece of wood that belongs to the front-side of his house, Ziva waits with her arms crossed protectively in front of her. Her lips are pursed; her teeth grinding against each other. Keeping her head in the same position, she moves her eyes and studies the soft glow that casts an impression on his lawn, most likely shining through an open window from his _keeper_ on the inside.

Another confrontation with Abby had not been on her hectic schedule, but having her second confrontation with Abby had happened anyway. Directly on top of Gibbs' front porch, Abby fought her greatest fight for the second time, and won. The only reason for the slight tremor in her bones had been caused from the force in-which Abby had slammed the front door in her face.

She took Abby's rudeness, but it never did sit quite right with her. As if she, herself, had an unexpected epiphany all of her, she came to understand that her only way of keeping some sort of control had been to fight for her right to tell her story-and in _full_. Not to _Abby_, not to the rest of the _team_, but to the one that _needed_ to hear it the most.

A shadow blocks the light that is streaming through the window, but Ziva welcomes the darkness. She inhales and closes her eyes, trying to rid herself of the last stubborn tremor that still invades her body.

Inside she can hear Abby's loud wreckage coming from a must-be ancient music player Gibbs probably proudly keeps in his possession. She imagines the Goth dancing and prancing around like one of Santa's reindeers; crafting tiny wood people with her most-likely hidden talent to build like the man who claims her as his favorite. Several chilled beers with their long necks turned up-right as her darkly painted lips take repeated chugs. Her attire is not hers either; she knows it belongs to Gibbs as she remembers it from some time ago. A shirt that reminds him of the Marines and all the experiences that came during that time period in his life; his _own_, his _people_, and his _family_. His perfect moment of _pride_, _love_, and _honor_-she wears it, because she can.

She disregards thinking what is underneath because there is _no regard _what-so-ever. His shirt hangs past her hips; large and ever-so-roomy-because she still can picture her. It is the perfect one-piece outfit for a good night's sleep, and vividly Ziva wonders which side of his bed, Abby cheerfully crawls into at night.

She knows of the error in her thoughts, but she can not find the strength to stop her mind from spiraling out of control. It wants into a _private _world she honestly has no business having any knowledge of nor part of.

Tonight he _returns_; his week in the hospital already lived and already behind him _physically_. The time is _now_-she must continue where they were _forced_ to leave off that one day in his hospital room. That one day where Abby came barreling through the doors of the hospital itching to soak up every waking minute he had before another roundabout with an injection of a type of painkiller. Within seconds she _robbed_ Ziva of her _desperately-needed _break-through-and that is something Ziva _will not _take the blame for.

With his left-bandaged-hand, he slams the car door of Ducky's classic vehicle. Clearing his throat, he tries to shake the lectures from his mind because the splitting headache he developed is more important to him.

Groaning, he watches the wheels of Ducky's car spin out of his driveway. Not even the engine of his car makes an impact on his head because Abby's music hammer is loud enough to make several more cracks in his respectfully aging house and his respectfully aging head.

"Damn it." He curses under his breath; wanting to blast through his front door and scream her name in earnest, but knowing better than to shatter her excitement of his return.

So he continues to walk until his feet reach the first step of his front porch. The humid air catching him right in the face as he fishes around for his house key.

"A knock will do."

Ziva steps from behind the darkness, knowing that the censor light from his front porch will notify him of his unexpected visitor incase he has forgotten the sound of her voice.

He only stares at her; nothing in his eyes can be easily read by her and he hangs on to the reality that this is the only way for him to desperately hold on to some sort form of _control_.

"She won't hear it."

"Then perhaps her position is no longer welcome."

Walking off his front step, he approaches her with such quickness she hardly as time to think of her next sentence, giving him the chance to speak in-turn. "This is my home."

"And she has one of her own, yes?" She questions delicately.

His eyes squint and then return to their original shape and size. "What're you getting at Ziva?" He pauses, but only for a second. "I told her she could be here when that one case revolved around her."

"Understood."

"Good." He snaps.

He turns and begins to walk back in the direction in-which he came. She opens her mouth to say something, but she closes it right back as if it never opened in the first place. Yet as she watches his feet reach the first step, she pushes herself forward, hoping to grab his attention once again.

"But what I do not understand is why she is _still _here."

He only turns his head; watching her with a glare she is glad of creating at this point in time. "How has she earned all of these privileges?"

"Excuse me?" He blinks at her; his glare disappearing, but his eyebrows growing more shapely than they naturally are.

"Of course I know my words hardly mean a thing-"

"Then why bother opening your mouth in the first place, Ziva?"

"Because I _can_." She stresses the word, hoping he will give her any benefit of any doubts he has about her. "Because I will, damn it, Gibbs-I need to speak to you…alone…without…interruptions. I deserve that."

"Who are you to tell _me_ what you _deserve_?" He steps off his front porch for the second time that night. "What'd you really come here for, Ziva? You want to step inside to only step back outside-to duke it out?-because I'm sorry to report that I haven't got it in me to go at it with you, again-and again, _AND AGAIN _right now." His shoulders tense. "DO YOU HEAR ME?" He grunts uncomfortably as he throws his voice to his bedroom window. "GODDAMN IT ABBY, TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN!"

A cat screeches from across the street, but the music only grows louder.

Turning away from her one more time, he jams his hands in his pockets and tries his best to quickly find his set of keys.

"Gibbs, wait!" Ziva calls for him as she tries to make her way over to him before he reaches his front door and enters; shutting her out for the rest of the night and possibly the rest of his life. "This is important. This is…_needed_…"

Ignoring her, he continues to try and grab a hold of his key ring. The bandages covering his hands make it difficult and so he grunts with frustration.

Ziva notices the trouble he is having and instantly places herself in front of him; her shoulder covering half of the censor light bulb.

"You're in my light!"

"It's the closest I can get to you…" She says lowly, part of her hoping he can hear her and the other hoping he can not. "If I choose to help you will you choose to let me in?"

His eyes are wild as they rip straight into hers. "LET YOU IN?" He begins to pant with frustration and pain; both physically and emotionally.

"In your home." She says easily; mentally kicking herself for chooses that particular form of works. "To…speak to you. That's all I want, Gibbs. I just want to be able to speak to you."

"Get out of here, Ziva." He shakes his head, hoping that this action will make her dissolve in thin air. "Go home-get out of here."

"I do not have a _home_, Gibbs." Her gut twists as she begins to wonder if he understands how difficult her situation is. The feeling makes her eyes prickle with tears, but she keeps her lips as stiff as she can.

"Don't cry to me." He warns her, but his tone is more nervous than bitter. "Don't…come cryin' to me, Ziva…" He finishes with a shortness of breath. "I can't _fix_ this anymore…I can't…let you _in_ anymore."

His words split her open on the inside, but still her lips never tremble.

"Now get out of my way…and go home…" He shakes his head, knowing that he made a mistake, the same mistake, once again. "…go to DiNozzo's…or McGee's…Ducky's even…just get off my property…just go."

Her eyes no longer sting as the tears spill down her face. Her mouth is small; her lips scared to open.

He feels like the bastard he is labeled to me, but it is his only way of dealing with pain.

"…you gonna go?" He asks without looking at her; his eyes fixed on his shoes.

"…I never knew you to be so cruel…" She swallows the lump in her throat as her quiet words start to bite into him. "I never knew you could _deny_ someone a _chance_ to make things _right_…" He stays quiet, not knowing how to react. "…in a world that for the most part is completely wrong."

Stepping to the side, she cascades down his front porch; a million thoughts and feelings running a literal muck at a speed she can not entirely tolerate. With their backs facing each other, she wants to speak because she knows that even over the quickened pulse of Abby's music, he is listening to her.

"There once was a man who asked me why I had not asked about you…"

His throat is tight; making it hard for him to swallow.

"…and I told him it would be a _waste_ of time." Her throat tightens. "He told me I was _stubborn_." She sighs heavily, then sniffles. "_Tony_ told me that it was _everything_, but a waste of time. He questioned me as to why things were never fixed between us…" Turning around, she faces his back. "…and I told him that, that was the way things were supposed to be."

The next track of Abby's monstrous heavy metal collection bounces off the walls, but neither of the two people on the outside are bothered; their minds too wrapped up in each other to acknowledge anything else.

"…so you _told_…" He speaks up finally. "…therefore you _thought_…about me." The slight hope in his voice can not be denied.

She wants to tell him the truth, that she thought about him as frequently as she possibly could. In whatever weather; where the sun would shine or the rain would pour. As she gripped her sniper rifle and murdered human beings from afar because it was simply her duty, as it once was his.

Yet, damages occurred. Too many repulsive events that he never knew existed-too many decisions he would not understand because it was out of his own element.

Turning around, he faces her for the third time that night. His eyes are open, his walls half-way up; showing her that a single word could bring it down completely.

"…Did you think about me, Ziva?" He asks her directly, despite his slight hesitation.

"I thought about _all_ of you." She knows she has failed to give him what he _needs _to hear, but he has not given her a chance to give him what she _needs_ to tell him-her _story_.

His eyes flash with disappointment, but his look is too raw; open for her to ever forget.

"We are going around to each circle are we not, Gibbs?" She lifts her eyebrows; waiting with a damp face and bloodshot eyes.

"Yeah…we are…" He looks to his feet momentarily. "_We're going around in circles_…trying to stab each other in the back…" He straightens his shoulders abruptly; inhaling sharply as his stress level heightens. "…trying to make each other hurt-trying to make each other pay." He looks directly into her eyes. "…trying to make each other crack…cry even…" His eyes soften. "Ziva…what happened to us?"

"We did." She shrugs helplessly. "We happened to us, Gibbs. You…me…our demons…we did this to ourselves."

The front door clicks and Abby appears with her hands over her head; rocking out to the music and rocking out to the moment.

"It is _time_ for me to go now." Ziva says quietly. "As _requested_."


	29. The Greatest Finale

**Hi Julia:** I actually do use the double dashes, but for some reason is making a lot of them into "one" dash instead of two ever since a few months ago. At first I thought it was my error alone, but when I go back to check in my chapters, both dashes are there. I write in Microsoft Works, not Word (because I just like it better), and maybe that's what isn't agreeing with suddenly? Sorry if it irks you, but it irks me too.

Something else that never works for me on either my PC or my MAC is the "underline" feature. I wanted all my chapter titles to be "underlined" and no matter how many times I click it and it shows up, when I save the file and I go into the fic link and read, it is never there. If the "line breaks" start acting up, I don't know what I'll do-because I LIVE for line breaks!

Thank you for your kind words as well. There's some days where I am like, "How the hell are they all going to get past this?" I never thought it would go this far...but that's what happens when I try to be slick. Oh sure, let DiNozzo work as a double Agent, Keep McGee in the dark, have Gibbs try to handle everything on his own, in a complete "silent" way, make Ziva angry and unreasonable-make them all turn their backs on each other and get two-faced about each and everything thing...and then I go, "Oh shit...the team is really in a lot of deep shit!"

You are correct though. I could never just make things right between Gibbs and Ziva without a lot of twists and turns.

**Hi SherryGabs:** I swear every time I see your name I keep saying Sherry "Gibbs". Shows you how much I can't get that man out of my head even if I tried, ha! Thankyou very much for your kind words. I can settle with "flare for drama"-but even sometimes when I read back on the chapters I get exhausted-I'm like how in the hell did I write all of this?

**Hi Abstractartist:** It's a very tough situation. I find it extremely hard at times, especially now to try to find a way to get them to speak kindly to one another. A single word can set either one of them completely off-and they aren't themselves now more-so than before. Gibbs is dealing with just getting out of the hospital-coping with the reality that he in-fact was saved from Mossad-and able to live. Ziva's father and husband are now dead-though they did her wrong, there's still memories she is dealing with. They're both so uptight about their own problems.

It's a tricky situation. As I said, chapters are becoming more difficult for me to finish entirely in an hour or so. I spend days or weeks thinking about where to go next because it is such a critical point right now. In the beginning each had their own worlds, but now...they're back together again. Crowding each other in DC like it's nobody's business but their own.

And as you said, there is the option to just walk away-Ziva can do exactly what she wants now, but there's just more to it-and there's more to Gibbs, but they're both stubborn as all hell-and they're both tired.

Your reviews are really in-depth, too. I really was shocked the first time I got a review from you. I said, check it out...this fan has got A LOT to say...I LOVE IT.

**Hi Ajordan11:** Good to see ya enjoying the fic and thanks for your kind words.

**Hi Jess:** Thanks for your kind words and I hope I do not disappoint.

**Hi Xandra76: **I'm glad this fic leaves a "big impression hours after reading it". I never in my wildest dreams thought that after completing only two fics for NCIS, I would ever amount to something like this series.

**HEY Zivacentric!:** You and I? Oh...we go way back...waaaaaay back...okay so it's not really THAT far back, but we still go way back. I know the shipper in you is probably DYING every time you read a new chapter-but you DO read the new chapters and I know you are "hopeful" while reading-and having hope means a whole hell of a lot to me-and I can sense that as I write.

Since I met you, you've been down with WATT and CO-and that's seriously a great recognition in my opinion.

*******Oh-and I just got an email from my buddy and it just so happens that **"Healing" by Zivacentric** & **"Fairytale Nightmare" by CSIGurlie28** both one for the Gibbs/Ziva category. Zivacentric for "Best Romance" and CSIGurlie28 for "Best Other". I nominated them both and I am extremely happy that they both walked away as winners. Lets give them both THREE cheers, shall we? Great job guys!*******

**NOW, on to the newest chapter-I hope each and every reader enjoys themselves. ****Later Days**-**GEEK** _(Sabrina)_.

* * *

**Chapter 29: The Greatest Finale**

The wreckage downstairs made an impression on him like never before. Suddenly the limp boards that were pierced with nails served as a reflection of _himself_ for the very first time. Their bodies so sturdy, yet their insides so agonized with each and every sharpened nail that settled within their contents-within their own _DNA_.

Even the empty bottles of bourbon he had drained the night before his decision to order McGee to travel the distance to Tel Aviv, glistened with his reflection as they all lay limp on and around his work table. The last droplet of tarnished liquid, if there were any, already evaporated and dried into the air making his basement hold such a sour stench.

The whole placed reeked of his tortured soul regardless of Abby skipping in and out of his home for a couple of weeks. Everything had been the way he left it-the way he wanted people to remember him; _lonely_, _bitter_, and _broken_-so they could hold a private ceremony and honor him in the shadows. So his Italian Agent could pick up where he left off and give the team exactly what they _needed_; a leader with strong shoulders, a wicked sense of humor, and the _kindest_ hand anyone carrying a gun could ever muster.

Instead his Italian Agent murdered the Director of Mossad in an effort to protect a former Agent while he fought for his life inside a torture chamber he had only seen while serving; while his tech-savvy Agent sat quietly and alone somewhere he never did find out about.

Coming back had not been his plan; trading his life for _three_ of his own had been his only vision as he boarded the plane to Tel Aviv.

* * *

The morning is brisk, but its abruptness is welcoming. The thunderstorm from the night before is silently thanked as employees of the Federal building rush to their desks. It is seven a.m.; the usual start for thousands of people all across the country, but there are two Agents that try their bests to fight through the smog that has settled over their squad room.

Dropping his backpack on the floor beside the inside of his desk, Agent DiNozzo looks as formal as a newbie. His hair settles in a constructed pattern on-top of his delicate head while even the fine hairs at the back of his neck seem to have joined hands and are bending in the same direction. His shirt collar is buttoned; a conservative tie present underneath it. His shoes glow with whatever product he must have used the night before.

McGee ignores his partner, having seen his choice in clothing for the day at the foot of the elevator inside the lobby, and finds his desk. Gripping the back of his chair, he sits in it correctly with his feet resting under the table top. Instantly, he pulls out his cell phone and begins to unravel the charger wire that comes with it.

"No electricity in your Geek Cave, McGee?" Tony jokes with a thin-lipped, neutral face.

McGee ignores his questions, knowing that the look on his face indicates that he does not want or need an answer; it is only a way to help himself along with the consequences he must face.

Hooking the his cellular phone to the charger cable, he tries to keep his eyes away from the empty desk of their Team Leader.

"Think he'll be back?" Tony asks what McGee does not want to address.

McGee ignores his partner once again, but Tony's eyes continue to wander.

"Justine's gone, too." He looks at her desk. "Too much dysfunction in this group, don't you think?"

"Tony, shut up." McGee finally voices himself. "It's too early to...bother with all of this."

"There'll be more mornings to come." He grips him with his deep stare. "More hours, days, weeks, months...Agents..." He shakes his head as his eyes slip closed.

McGee holds his breath; afraid to speak.

Opening his eyes, Tony finds his seat and powers on his computer. After several minutes, he stops using the machine in front of him so he can fold his arms and think to himself. His position does not go unseen by McGee, but it also is not enough to have McGee get too nervous; although in time seeing how his eyes travel around their _base,_ he soon begins to act in the same way as his partner.

"What are you doing, McGee?" Tony asks quietly, his eyes never stopping their parade around their offices.

"Trying my best to fight off the chill." He answers truthfully; his gaze quickly falling on Tony. "...what about you?"

"Trying my best to remember the warmth." His answer makes a sinking feeling in the pit of McGee's stomach. "...foolish of me?"

"I...don't know, Tony." McGee harbors on the edge; needing to find a way to respectfully deal with everything without crashing on the shores of somebody else's beach.

"You don't know?" Tony finds intrigue in this. "Tell me what you do know."

"That we're in trouble...well, that's a given."

As soon as he feels the urge to turn around and take a glance above him, to the Director's usual standing position, he notices an army of unfamiliar faces rushing towards his general direction.

Before McGee can stand, he is ordered to stay seated by the leader of the pack. He rubs at the arms of his chair; his nerves bubbling over as if acid was thrown on top of them.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo?" His question more like a statement than an actual question. "Come with us."

McGee watches as Tony stands and literally walks right into their hands. The scene in front of him whacks him full-on in the face, causing his nose to feel heavy and swollen as if he was punched directly in the nose. Standing then, he ignores the evil stare from the same man that told him to stay seated. "What's this about?"

"Not that it is any of your business, but Special Agent DiNozzo is being held for the murder of Eli David, Director of Mossad."

"It was self-defense." His chest surprisingly puffs out a bit and his shoulders grow more pointed.

"Leave that to the judge."

"Does the Director of NCIS know about this?" McGee scolds himself on his voice growing higher and out of tune.

"I do, Agent McGee." Turning around, he watches his superior stand as still as the human body will allow. "This has to happen."

"She's right Probie...I haven't got a choice this time..." Tony tells him carefully instead fishing for a joke in the whole situation. "This isn't a _Frame-Up _this time...this is real." He shrugs helplessly. "I killed the Director of Mossad...out of self-defense and now I have to go before a judge."

"Does Gibbs know about this?"

"Nothing slips past his radar." Tony mentions.

Holding his tongue, McGee fights for something else to say.

"If the farewell party is over..." The man says coldly. "I'd like to get on with it."

Jenny Shepard looks deeply into Tony's eyes; wanting him to understand her position as much as she understands his. Turning away from her, he lets a man handle him properly over to the elevator.

"What's this going to do to the team?" McGee finally is able to form words again; the realization rattling him on the inside, but not enough to encourage a major set-back in his ambition to find his strength.

The fire-haired Director keeps her lips stiff and thin; wanting to disappear from the moment with the click of her heels.

"Director?" McGee pushes; his patience growing as thin as Gibbs', if he had been a part of this dramatic scene.

She closes her eyes and gathers her thoughts. They are not specifically sorted as they should be, but they are in enough order to keep her grounded.

"Reassignments, McGee." A loud sigh escapes her.

His eyes widen, but he does not speak.

"I tried..." Her voice small. "I tried to do the best I could...for Tony...for Gibbs...for the _team_."

"I don't like this, Director."

"But you are to _accept _it, McGee." Stepping away from him, she lingers in the squad room with her back to him. "We all _must_."

* * *

The brim of his old-fashioned hat goes with the rest of his dapper attire as he makes an entrance through a front door that never once could be accounted for as being locked. Calling out his friends name, he agrees to the silence that greets him, but proceeds with great ease and a clear knowledge for where his friend has fled.

Inside the basement of the basic house, Gibbs rests with his elbows pushing against the top of his work bench; a bottle of bourbon uncapped and a mason jaw full to the rim.

"Something tells me you are going to need a straw for that." Ducky stands at the top of the stairs.

"Don't think I got any of those, Duck."

"Then split that drink with a dear friend."

Gibbs' bottom lip pushes forth a little as he knits his eyebrows. Grabbing another mason jar, he empties its contents and turns the bottle of bourbon upside down over it.

Laying his trench on a piece of wood that is sticking out from the wreckage, Ducky scolds his friend for doing what he did not ask.

"I said to share, Jethro."

"I need all of it." Gibbs slurs just a smidge; his mind slightly intoxicated.

"All in a days work, I suppose..." The elderly man takes his first sip. "This is ever-most refreshing."

Gibbs lets him speak because he dreads the approaching moment where Ducky will turn serious and the days events will really start to make themselves heard; _loud_ and very, very _clear_.

"I do not think I have ever known you to waste away in something other than this particular choice of drink." Gibbs inhales as he realizes Ducky is well on his way to poking at his nerves. "...because _wasting away_ is what you are doing..._again_."

"It's my life."

"It is _our _lives." He turns and rests at an angle. "Life is only what you make it Jethro, and nothing more. Sitting around waiting for the rest of the pieces to crumble and fall amongst the ones already scattered across the floor will be the literal end." He catches his breath; his actions so involved with what he is saying. "The greatest finale, Jethro...lies in your hands."

His words make contact and leave Gibbs flustered, sweaty, and so deep in thought his hand grips his glass of bourbon tightly, the top layer of liquid splashing out over the top of the glass and wetting his hand.

"Just look at yourself-" Ducky pushes. "Returning to old habits you managed to let die a year ago."

"That was before this." He hopes he is hitting a nerve in his partner. "...that was before DiNozzo took a _shot_ for me."

"You train your people to react as they should-to construct their uniqueness in a way they are able to use in each and every case your team investigates. Anthony took what he learned and he used it the best to his knowledge."

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna feel good about the fact he's being held by Mossad for taking the life of Director David." His words are bitter and direct. "They're gonna tear him apart in there, Duck! They're gonna...take him away from NCIS..." After his voice cracks, he takes a sip from his glass. "Aw hell...they've already got him...and Jenny? She's got the rest of 'em."

Ducky shakes his head. "Her position is at stake, Jethro...she can not play hardball in the way that you can. She isn't _allowed_."

"Christ." Gibbs breath is rough and tired.

"There is a power in _time_...the time in _power_ itself." Resting a hand on the back of his disgruntled friend, he speaks delicately to him. "You are the only one that holds the _power_, who has the_ time_, to use it _wisely_." He waits for a few seconds. "Your _team_ is _waiting_ for you, _Jethro_."

The Marine nods, knowing his position in each of their lives, but fearing rejection or worst from them. "Don't know where to begin..." He shrugs; looking so uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Ducky's eyes glisten; the sourness inside the basement still lingers. "_Return_ to the one that started it all." He keeps his hand steady as he can while resting on the younger man's back. "...the one you are _trying _to _love_."

The four letter word makes his breath catch in his throat, making him clear his throat loudly. "Duck, I don't-"

"Call it what you will, Jethro..." Ducky begins to stand and removes his hand from his shoulder. "...but there is something there between Ziva and yourself." Grabbing his trench coat from the wood, he travels up the stairs and lingers at the top. "...and she _knows _it, _too_."


	30. The Spy Who Loved Me

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews. This chapter would have been up sooner, but took me longer to think about what scenes I wanted to use/write first. Anyway, today's my birthday...I turned 23...and because I'm such a geek and an old soul that makes me 63 years old, lmao. Don't laugh too much...I'm being dead serious with you all. Anyway, only geeks write chapters for their fics on their birthday...so three freaking cheers for me, huh? WEE! WEE! WEE! (or any other form of cheers would do-but wee wee wee tickles me in places I'll keep to myself. Alrighty, way too much honey I must have put in my tea...so while I calm myself down (and make a pit stop at the bathroom), you guys read the new chapter and hopefully you all will enjoy yourselves. _Later Days_-**GEEK **(Sabrina)

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**Chapter 30: The Spy Who Loved Me**

Tony lies awake inside his cell. It is small and it is stuffy; poor air circulation due to the creaky air conditioner he passed by on the way inside. There are no windows; this is the worst cell in the history of all cells he is sure. There is no need for any means of shut-eye because the late morning is approaching-and so are his punishments.

If Jeanne could see him now she would probably spit in his face; scratch his eyes out and dig out a few clumps of his hair. Her free ticket to bring him pain; hoping it would make her feel better after all the rotten things he did to her. A few swift kicks to his groin, through metal bars; the perfect way to make him fall to his knees while he is trapped on the inside.

It is now that Tony wishes for someone to be there. Someone to give him the impression that there is beauty on the outside-in this cold world. A person to follow him through the mud in times like these…a person that will stand by him and never have any doubts about the decisions he had _made_.

He fought against it as best as he could; the grip he held on his weapon made imprints in his hand long before he pulled the trigger. He never intended to face Ziva's father nor kill him right in front of her.

He smirks at the twisted scenario that plays back in his head; her father on the verge of being murdered and all she wanted was a way out-her determination solely on finding Gibbs and McGee.

He wants to applaud her on her guts, but she is not there for him to see. He is alone; tucked away in a cell that could possibly be the last down the line. He stands, then paces. He tries to find comfort in the ticking of the clock on his wrist, but the quick ticks echo loudly in the hallow cell-making him feel a type of chill and dampness that causes his throat to grow tight.

He wants to hear someone speak; he _needs_ human contact-but they will not let him have any visitors until instructions are discussed between NCIS and Mossad.

…Until the _rest of his life _is decided for him.

* * *

With his keys in his hands, he opens his front door to embark on a mission that the hospital doctors instructed he stay away from-at least until a couple of weeks. Finding his car parked at the beginning of his driveway, from the house down to the street, he reaches for his cell phone; he has a _need_ to speak to someone that _needs_ conversation as much as he does, and begins to look for the saved number in his contacts.

A single dry leaf swirls around him in the light breeze, indicating that summer will soon reach its end and the rustic colors of the fall will soon take up residence.

"Jethro!" Turning around from the shouting of his name, he squints in an unfriendly-like manner at Agent Fornell. "I need to speak to you."

"I'm not workin'." He rasps while shutting his phone; _suddenly_ his doctors orders mean something.

"Oh yeah? Where you heading, then?" Fornell gives him a narrow look. "I would advise you come with me."

"There's plenty of people around here for ya to harass-some of them might even grow to like ya, Fornell."

"Cut the crap, Gibbs-this is serious." He throws a look over his shoulders; checking the parameter.

Clearing his throat, Gibbs places his car keys back into his pockets. "I'm listenin', Tobias."

"NCIS is in hot water-"

"Gee, really Tobias?" Gibbs cracks.

Fornell gives him a beady look and continues. "Now you know me, Gibbs-I like to see you suffer every once in a blue moon, I even like to regulate the _water_ every now and again, but this is one time where I can't really do that-and that makes me nervous."

"This about DiNozzo?"

"It's about the team. _Your_ team…FBI was put on investigation."

Gibbs rolls his eyes and looks at the sky. "I should have known…while I was fighting for my life, I should have known if I made it through, I'd still be forced to look at your face."

Fornell smirks. "Considering the others that work alongside me, you should be glad its my face you're forced to look at." He waits for Gibbs to speak, but he chooses not to. "I don't like this anymore than you do, Jethro."

"Then why bother?" Gibbs shakes his head. "What happened has nothing to do with the FBI. Now Internal Affairs-sure, I can see them comin' down to investigate foul play-but the Feds? Nah…they shouldn't be on my turf."

"Michael Rivkin sound familiar?" He sees him flinch and gives him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. "Figured he would."

"Mossad's got nothing to do with FBI." Gibbs states.

"They do when one of their own had been one of our own."

Gibbs stops himself from turning around and looks deeply at Fornell. "You're telling me that Michael Rivkin…former Mossad…worked for the FBI?"

"As his wife, _Ziva David_, worked for the CIA at one time." Fornell adds more to the story, causing Gibbs to grow tense in his shoulders and neck. "See Gibbs, I know these things. This is why I'm standing in your driveway."

"Is that so?" He cocks an eyebrow.

"Well it sure as hell isn't for the faint smell of your precious daisies."

Sighing, Gibbs reaches for his keys again. "You gonna let me drive myself or do you want to make me look bad in front of the rest of the classroom?"

"You can drive yourself, but don't think for a moment about skippin' town."

"I love when you give me ideas, Tobias."

Smirking, Gibbs turns around and climbs inside his car. Once Fornell disappears into his own car, his smirk falls as does his stomach.

* * *

The interrogation room is just as anyone can remember. It is simple and well-air conditioned; the perfect icebox for a hot summer day and the worst nightmare for any winter day. The metal table sits perfect with its sturdy legs flat against the ground. The usual two chairs in the room are accompanied by four others; more seats for more people that are to be drilled until they crack under pressure.

The stakes are high on this Federal board game. Each Agent will have the opportunity to make their own moves and suffer their own consequences.

Jenny Shepard pins her shoulders back as she looks intently through the two-way mirror. The future of her most trusted team teeters on one hell of a rickety fence; so weathered and warn from the trouble paths that constantly ran through it.

A soft click makes her flinch, but she does not turn herself around to face her wise friend. The scent of his old-fashioned cologne invades her nostrils and sets her mind at ease if only for a brief moment or two.

"There isn't a need for you, Ducky." She speaks easily; wanting to set him free without insulting him. "Your judgment isn't required."

He approaches her from behind, still keeping his lips tight and closed.

"…Tony's been requested to go first…" She provides information she is certain that he seeks. "…Ziva second…Gibbs third…McGee forth…"

"What about our dear Abigail?"

"Off the hook _this _time." She turns her head to the side and smiles sadly. "…no way for her to be a part of this equation."

"And yourself, Director?" He questions, then walks around to her other side; her back still facing him.

"I am only allowed to oversee this interrogation." The chill to her tone makes him a bit uneasy. "Mossad and FBI run this show…everyone else follows in their footsteps."

"Does Jethro know about this?"

She waits for a moment; using the silence to gather her strength.

"Time will tell." She tells him.

* * *

Fornell instructs him to sit as an unfamiliar face for Mossad stares him down. The temperature rises, causing the coolness in the air to diminish. Sweat forms on his brow; not a single thought of drumming away to an air guitar crosses his mind as he clasps his hands properly in front of him.

"I am to understand that you understand your reason for being here, Agent DiNozzo." Fornell states.

"Understood." Tony clarifies.

"I am also to understand that I am obligated to tell you that interrogation is being recorded." He begins to walk around the tiny space inside the room; wanting his first question to be the golden ticket to getting the golden answer. "Now, Agent DiNozzo, would you like to tell myself, Agent Doron Miriam, and all our friends at NCIS why you took it upon yourself to murder the Director of Mossad?"

Tony sighs; a tiny and twisted smile escapes his lips uncontrollably.

"Answer the question, Agent DiNozzo."

"No. No, his death wasn't a plan."

"I never said it was."

"Then why on earth would I take it upon myself to kill the man?" His words fire past his lips. "A person just doesn't wake up one morning and declare vengeance on a man they hardly know."

"It isn't hard to believe. Things like that happen everyday."

"Gee Fornell, I don't consider myself an 'everyday' type of guy, then." He inhales. "Next question."

"I'll make that call, Agent DiNozzo."

His eyebrows slant from the middle outward, causing his usual bright eyes to darken. "You're not going to get the satisfaction of twisting the truth." Tony steadies himself; hands flat on the table and the soles of his shoes pressed against the hard floor. "Yes, I fired a gun and with a bullet, I murdered Director David-but nothing had ever been planned."

"Then why were you in Tel Aviv?"

"To try and get Ziva back to the states."

"Why not just pick up a phone." Fornell's shoulders stiffen slightly. "Let me rephrase that question. Why hadn't you gone to Hong Kong instead?"

"I wasn't aware of her whereabouts."

"So you just assumed Tel Aviv would be the place to find her."

"Seems pretty logical to me, Fornell." Tony admits. "Many people choose to return home when the place they try to call home denies them entry or permanent residence."

"Ziva David isn't just 'people'. She's former Mossad, former NCIS…former CIA…Former member of the SDU…" He raises an eyebrow. "Former lover?"

* * *

Behind the thin sheet of glass Director Shepard holds her breath as Agent Fornell's unanswered question lingers in the air.

The personal relationships of her Agents have nothing to do with her nor does she judge them on their specimen choices, but any non-professional relationship between the Italian and the Israeli will complicate their troubles on another level entirely.

Ducky watches steadily; his own breath being held.

* * *

"I excuse the question." Tony tries for calmness in the tone of his voice. "I excuse your stupidity, Fornell."

"It's a logical question, Agent DiNozzo…I suggest you answer it before you complicate this matter."

"I find it hard to believe things could get anymore complicated."

"They can and they will." His voice stern. "Answer the question."

Nervously, Tony runs his hand along the back of his head. "Ya know I was to call a lawyer first thing in the morning, but I figured, nah, it'd be a waste of effort and money on my part…"

"Things suddenly change for you, Agent DiNozzo?"

"Well…when the FBI decides to stick a prick in my face, I don't see how things could not." He forces a smile.

"Wanna call a lawyer, Agent DiNozzo?" Fornell waits; a teasing smile on his lips. "There's a whole phonebook full of them."

Tony pushes his back against the back of the chair, hoping to get some sort of comfort for the first time since entering the interrogation room.

"What'll it be, Agent DiNozzo?"

"No." He says quickly, but quietly. "I haven't done anything wrong. I don't need a lawyer."

"So you will continue to defend yourself?"

"Don't see any reason I shouldn't."

Agent Miriam slams his fists on the table; creating a series of chilling echoes that can even be heard by the Director and Ducky on the opposite end of the two-way mirror.

"Enough of this garbage!" He roars. "Where are your relations to Ziva David?"

Fornell looks slightly frightened at the outburst, but soon settles himself down and waits for Tony to answer.

"So we're tag-teaming now?" Tony wonders. "Where's my team-mate?"

"Answer…the question…Agent DiNozzo." Agent Miriam is shaking with anger.

"Former co-worker; current friend." Tony lifts an eyebrow. "That enough?"

"You tell nothing, but lies!" He hisses.

"Yeah, okay…I'm lying." Tony shrugs. "Ya got me, buddy."

Fornell smirks at Tony's usual roundabout with sarcasm, but Agent Miriam's eyes begin to tear from staring Tony in the face. "Co-worker, friend…these kinds of people would not allow themselves to travel outside of the country; Ziva would not have allowed you to come unless-"

"That's why I took it upon myself." Tony manages to say. "That's why I asked for time off, I got on a plane, and I went to Tel Aviv. I did it on my own-"

"Because you two are lovers-"

"Because she's important to me." Tony corrects him. "…and I'd like to think I'm just as important to her."

"I gotta say, Agent DiNozzo, things were easier before knowledge of what you just offered to tell us." Fornell mentions.

"Either I tell you the _truth_ or you two convince yourselves that Ziva and I are seeing each other."

Agent Miriam spins around and slowly walks around the table. Agent Fornell does the same until he is right back in the center of the room and the table.

"So let me get this straight…you're telling the both of us that the only reason why you flew to Tel Aviv had been because you wanted to reconnect with an old friend, possibly bring her back, possibly _more_…"

"The bit at the end; the twisted part, no. No, that I won't agree to." Tony speaks firmly.

"I'll try and remember that." Fornell tosses at him. "Proceeding into the reality that the Director of Mossad and Michael Rivkin are dead because…of you."

"I didn't kill Michael Rivkin." Tony shakes his head. "Ziva did."

"Making your girlfriend take what's rightfully hers, aye, Agent DiNozzo?" Fornell grins.

"She's not my girlfriend." A slight growl escapes him. "…and it isn't how you think. Michael found us during our pursuit for Gibbs and McGee. Ziva and I, we hadn't a choice. Either we protected each other and ourselves, or you'd have four dead bodies on your hands instead of two."

"Remind me to rate this Romantic Drama when I get a chance."

"THIS ISN'T A GODDAMN JOKE, FORNELL!"

Tony pushes back on the chair as he shoots out of his chair. The chair falls on its back and slides slightly away from him. With fever in his eyes, he hovers over the desk with two round fists forcing themselves into the hard surface.

Fornell pauses and watches the angered man before him. Looking past his shoulders, he notices Agent Miriam continue to pace, but slower this time, as he watches Tony carefully.

"I never thought there was anything funny about this, Agent DiNozzo." He speaks easily. "…but we've got a problem on our hands." He waits to see if Tony will find his seat again, but he does not. "You're the prime suspect in this whole ordeal."

Tony's shoulders fall a smidge, but he keeps his guard way up.

"Now you say you spoke to Director Shepard, and you requested some time off so you could go to Tel Aviv and find Ziva, because you assumed she had been living there-"

"Wait…just wait…" He sighs. "I was told she was there…until I got there."

Fornell squints. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I spoke with a friend of hers while in DC…on the phone…that's the only reason why I decided to go ahead with what I wanted to do…with what I did. he told me he could help me find her, but I did not know she wasn't living in Tel Aviv until I arrived there."

"Who is this 'friend'?"

"Lior…I don't know his last name." Tony's shoulders grow heavier, causing them to fall even more. "He's dead…one of the bodies from the warehouse." Huffing, Tony rubs his brow. "Listen, I know this looks bad…I know this _sounds_ bad, but the occurrence of events happened for a reason I or Ziva can not be held responsible for. I couldn't predict this…I _wouldn't_ ever predict this."

Fornell looks at him and crosses his arms over his chest.

* * *

"Oh dear…" Ducky whispers as his hand falls gently on one of her shoulders.

Director Shepard hangs her head low; ashamed.

"I ruined his life, Ducky." She pauses. "I should have never let him go through with it."

"He would have traveled to Tel Aviv regardless of your approval or not…" His gaze returns to the glass; watching as Agent Fornell and Agent Miriam exit the interrogation room. "The young lad has taken after his team leader, you know…"

"I could shoot Jethro for instilling his stubbornness into his team."

Ducky raises an eyebrow charmingly. "Or congratulate him on shaping them to go for what they think is right."

"Tony's act of righteousness has brought him closer to imprisonment than any one of his half-witted ideas."

"You mustn't be negative, Jenny."

She covers the hand laying on her shoulder, "…but I must be _honest_."


	31. Trapped

**Author's Note:** Thanks everyone for the birthday wishes and the reviews. Hope you are to enjoy this chapter as well. Catch ya on the flip side-_Later Days!_-**Geek**

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**Chapter 31: Trapped**

Ziva enters the interrogation room; her emotions already locked away and shut out from the rest of the world. Her determination lies on answering _realistic_ questions and keeping her personal afflictions private.

"David, please, take a seat." Fornell tells her; his eyes glued to the way her body moves carefully.

As she connects with the chair, she looks ahead of her to the far right corner and sees Doron staring at her with such betrayal it makes her heart skip a beat; her first sight of a Mossad since passing by the still bodies of her father and her husband laying on the warehouse floor.

"Over here." Fornell waves his hand _carefully_ in front of her face; her state of mind unlike Tony's. "Want to tell us what happened in Tel Aviv?"

"…alright…" Her steadiness is forced, but it pulls through regardless and it gives her strength she knows how to find deep down inside of herself. "An unsuspected event took place leaving…m-…my father and Michael Rivkin dead." She sighs, but the weight on her shoulders still pushes her down.

"What was Agent DiNozzo doing there?"

"He had come back with me…from Hong Kong." The palms of her hands rest flat against the top of the table.

Fornell thinks to himself and squints. Ziva watches him nervously as he tries to peel away the thick boards of metal she has put up around herself, and it scares her because he has a look in his eyes that tells her that he _will_ get through her and he will _take_ whatever information she holds deep inside.

"Then the event had not be unsuspected." He states. "…if anything, it had been suspected otherwise Agent DiNozzo would not have found his way back with you."

"He had been given orders." The level of her voice heightens, but not enough to cause hysteria. "Director Shepard had given him orders to find Agents Gibbs and McGee."

"So this _is_ an act of vengeance." He tosses his head to the side and laughs. "And Agent DiNozzo almost had me-"

"It had not been an act of vengeance."

"I know the story, David. Agent Gibbs killed your brother in recent years and your father wanted to make him pay. Of course he couldn't properly do that without suffering extreme consequences while Gibbs resided in the country, but as soon as he entered your father's territory then there wasn't a need to hold back. All that needed to be done was a phone call to his people and therefore-"

"Director David had every right to make Agent Gibbs pay for the death of his son." Agent Miriam steps into the conversation. "It had been the honorable thing to do."

"That doesn't make what he did right, Doron!" Ziva harshly whispers. "Ari targeted Gibbs when he had been defenseless."

"How would you-"

"I know because I killed Ari."

Fornell's jaw nearly drops on the floor as a truth he had not been seeking makes itself known.

Doron flinches at her words, but he never once looks away from her.

"I killed him to save Agent Gibbs' life…because it was the 'honorable' thing to do." She pauses for a few seconds. "Ari had killed one of their own."

"Had their own not been eligible to kill Ari?"

"He doesn't train his Agents to kill, Doron…he _teaches_ them to _investigate_."

Doron huffs. "You fell short of that, Ziva."

"I fell short of a lot of things…my father as well." She laughs at her own stupidity. "My father…" She shakes her head slightly.

Fornell sees an opening to tear the rest of the metal boards away from her and he wants the moment to be his.

"Be straight with me, David…"

"I am being straight with you, Agent Fornell. Agent DiNozzo was given orders by Director Shepard-"

"His orders had nothing to do with your own." He makes a point. "You did not need to reenter Tel Aviv."

"He requested my help!" She snaps finally. "…and considering the two Agents that needed help…I took it upon myself to return to Tel Aviv, but I wanted to find them…I did not want to kill anyone."

"Shit happens." He rasps carelessly. "Sometimes people have to die."

"My father and Michael Rivkin brought it upon themselves. They killed everyone on our team."

"A team that you put together all of your own!" Fornell barks. "There's nothing right or okay about what the both of you did. Agent DiNozzo went against the grain and then he pushed some more."

She shakes her head and knits her eyebrows. "No."

"No?" Fornell blinks.

"No…no this isn't right. Agent DiNozzo should not be blamed for what he did. The Director of NCIS ordered him to bring her Agents back. He was only following protocol." She hit's the table with one of her fists. "He was only doing what any member of Gibbs' team would have done."

Fornell rubs his forehead with one of his hands. The swelling on the sides indicate that he is absorbing far too much information for one day.

Miriam paces the floor behind Fornell; his gaze drifting every so often in the direction of the two-way mirror that is close enough for him to touch with his hands.

"No one in their right mind is going to let either of you free-"

"No one in their right mind should hold us in contempt."

"Hatred has nothing to do with this-"

"It does!" She feels the impulse to scream at him. "If Ari had not targeted Gibbs-if Gibbs had not targeted Ari-if Ari had never decided to Kill Gibbs-I wouldn't have actually killed him…my father wouldn't have wanted to take Gibbs' life…I…I wouldn't have…"

* * *

Several minutes before, Gibbs had forced his way through the door of the tiny room. With his ex-girlfriend and his eldest friend on either side of him, he looks through the two-way mirror as a pain-stricken face watches _her_.

"You aren't supposed to be in here, Jethro." Jenny whispers.

"She's _remembering_…" He can hardly continue. "He's _making_ her remember…"

Ducky swallows his fear as best as he can. The clearness in the situation is multiplying as he thinks of even more of a possible set back to the strained relationship between his Marine friend and the Israeli fighter.

* * *

"David?" Fornell tries to bring her back. "You were saying?"

She opens her mouth, but nothing is able to come out.

Fornell knits his eyebrows and throws a look over his shoulder as if he can feel Gibbs' wooden stare. "We going to need a little help in here?" He calls out.

* * *

Director Shepard places a hand on Gibbs' shoulder, "Now is the time for you to leave, Jethro."

"What's he doing to her?" His senses loose focus on the world around him momentarily. "Why does he want to make her remember?" He slams his fist against the glass, causing a moment of silence inside the room and a startles the others inside the interrogation room.

"I suggest you keep your _emotions_ under wraps until it is convenient." Ducky speaks calmly, yet steadily to his friend. "_Losing control _will not help anyone in this situation."

"I'd kill the bastard!" He growls; his pulse can be felt in every region of his body that is still hurting from the torment he had been dealt. "…again…"

Jenny keeps her lips together as she eyes Ducky worriedly.

"That doesn't sound like the investigator we all know you to be…" Ducky offers as an attempt to get Gibbs back to being well-grounded.

"I'd still kill the bastard if I could…" He takes a step back, but not enough to be far away from the two-way mirror. "For killing Kate…for wanting to kill me…" He looks to Ducky, feeling slightly uncomfortable to look in Jenny's eyes for what he feels the need to say, "…for wanting to kill _her_…"

* * *

"How about a break, David?" Fornell asks now that he no longer has the patience to sit there and stare at her. "About an hour or so sound good?"

She keeps her mouth closed, but nods in agreement. When she sees him nod back, she shoots out of the chair and rushes for the door. As soon as she turns the knob, Fornell approaches her.

"You will be escorted by an Agent; you aren't to leave headquarters or hold any conversations with other Agents."

She nods slightly as she opens the door. Outside an Agent greets her immediately; making her feel just as _trapped_ as she felt inside the stuffy interrogation room.


	32. Heat

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, what's going on? Sorry it took me a while to put this chapter up. A LOT of stuff going on over at my end...which isn't 'much' at the same time which means I'm not even bragging. Anyway, I could be coming up on a job (finally-been out of work since May. The first and the LAST time I ever walk off a job WITHOUT giving a two weeks notice-one of the worst mistakes anybody could make for a job) and classes started on the 2nd. Film History Post 1940's and...Introduction into Producing. I originally had a Sound & Foley class, but I couldn't afford to purchase 700 dollars worth of equipment. Sigh...a lot of shit going on...more bad and dysfunctional than good and...average? Yeah-all that not-so-good stuff, but the best thing you can do is keep on chuggin' along...

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter. I hope that I didn't make too many spelling/grammar errors and...three cheers for 'possibly' a good season 8 of NCIS that is approaching! If it's anything like season 7, I swear I'll groan more than I'll cheer, but I'll still watch it anyway.

_Later Days_-**GEEK!**

* * *

**Chapter 32: Heat**

Fornell centers on breaking the familiar man that stares back at him; making his features hard and cold to himself, yet they only cause Gibbs to smirk.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Jethro."

"Already done, Tobias." One of his battered hands extends and rests on top of the table.

"How does it feel to be on the opposite end of the table?"

"I'm on the opposite end?" He shrugs casually. "Thought I was right where I'm supposed to be…just a table…just a chair…just a room…" He finishes with a heck. "Just an investigation on _my_ turf, Tobias."

Fornell falls back with an eye roll. Straightening his shoulders, he walks around the room; enjoying the extra room he now has that Doron Miriam has vacated for a while.

"You make it seem like I'm out to get ya, Jethro." He turns on his heel and continues to walk in the other direction. "I'm only here to do my job-I'm only here to figure out if your entire team and your Director should be hauled out of here only to be put on the outside and on your asses."

"You'd like that picture, Tobias."

"Picture perfect." He admits; a questionable satisfaction is questionably satisfied.

"Just like your marriage." Gibbs quips. "…right?"

A handful of smugness is lost on Fornell's part, but he puts it aside to deal with what is most important. "I'm listening."

"I thought that was my job-I'm the one that asked the question."

"Cut the crap, Gibbs-let's get to it."

Leaning forward, Gibbs scoots his behind further into the seat until it reaches the end; his back pressing firmly against the back of the chair. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Gibbs chuckles at his quick and impossible answer even though there is no real hilarity concerning the issue.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Tobias. Director Shepard made a call I wasn't aware of. Agent DiNozzo made a move I wasn't aware of-"

"So you are speaking against-"

His deepened stare cuts Fornell right off. "I'm not going against them-I'm not going against _my_ team. I'm only telling you the _truth_. If DiNozzo had come to me with honesty, I would have shut him down-I would have shut _it_ down."

"You never would have went looking for Ziva?"

"Not…'never'…" He begins to feel his head swell, but he continues knowing he needs to make his point now in case he never gets another chance to. "…eventually I would have went looking for her…we all would have, but we would have done it correctly."

Fornell almost giggles at this confession. "On the record I know how you make it all seem, Jethro…but off the record? I know the way it really _is_."

"…what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Being correct might be a blip on your teams radar once in a while, but as something that is constant?

Gibbs begins to shake his head from side to side; desperately trying to keep his patience steady.

"No-it never works that way for Team Gibbs."

"Bullshit, Tobias-what are you driving at?" He peers deeply at the smaller man.

"I'm driving at _your_ bullshit, Jethro. Looking for Ziva would never be _correct_-she no longer served the Agency." He watches as Gibbs shuts his eyes slowly. "I've got you there and you know that. Looking for her would cost time and resources you aren't allowed to use when and how you see fit. I mean-come on, who's to say that this wasn't a plan from the start? DiNozzo breaks the chain of command, the top of the chain grants his request-here comes you, you're extremely pissed off, if not, a tad bit miffed, yet you remember you need a partner so you grab the only field agent you've got left-"

Gibbs pushes himself out from under the table.

"Now you're wandering the streets of Tel Aviv looking for someone you couldn't possibly find unless you know something." He pauses. "Of course you know something-you're in the hands of Director David now and he wants you dead for killing his only son, but you keep this from McGee because you feel he isn't at the level of understanding or handling such a deadly game."

He rises out of his chair slowly; his head hanging low as he takes everything Fornell has to give to him.

"Gotta keep your slate clean, though…right?" He gives him a chance to answer, but Gibbs does not. "You wanted this to happen. You wanted to _use_ each member of your team to find her-"

"I NEVER USED MY TEAM!" Gibbs snaps; his face red and puffy.

Fornell huffs for a breath as he keeps a steady stare with the tense man in front of him.

"…if not _any_ of this…then what, Gibbs?" His last name forces past his lips; indicating to Gibbs that Fornell wants answers immediately. "Tell me."

"Shit happened. You got that? SHIT HAPPENED!" He slams the side of his fist onto the table. "DiNozzo got way in over his head. The Director wanted redemption for herself-wanted to find a way to make it up to him after the shit she put him through with _'The Frog'_, I went after his sorry ass to protect him from coming face to face with Eli David." Gibbs waves an arm in the air. "So I needed help-I needed back up. I took McGee, who else did I have?" He slams the same side of his fist onto the table. "DAMN IT, FORNELL-THAT'S THE TRUTH!"

"Yelling isn't going to make your story any more correct."

He grabs the back of his chair, picking it up quickly and slamming all four legs back into the ground. "FUCK THIS!" Sweat begins to pour on his brow. "You want to take my story and you want to twist it to better suit the fucking FBI? Then do it." He punches the floor with the impaling of the chair legs. "I've got nothing fucking left to tell you." The chair spikes the floor for the third and final time. "Finished."

Fornell watches as he makes his way to the door; his words quickly forming inside his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Jethro."

"That's why you're not me, Tobias."

* * *

The Tech Pro slightly continues to connect the bottoms of his shoes with the solid floor. He uses the repetition as a need for calmness as inside, his nerves, are all a flutter.

"Three interrogations today and not one has succeeded in telling me anything different." Fornell begins while closing the door. "You better have one hell of a better story, Agent McGee."

He swallows. "Where do I begin?"

"Anywhere your heart desires, Agent McGee…just know that if you withhold any information that I find out later-and I will find out later-every other player on this lopsided football field is going to suffer as well." Fornell smirks. "Begin."

McGee takes a deep breath; gathering his thoughts as he the seconds tick forward.

"I, uh, can't give you much of a better story than my, uh, teammates…" He shakes his head; the atmosphere is shifting into dangerous grounds as he begins to feel _trapped _and _tied_. His capture in Tel Aviv making him grow slightly numb. "I-it, it's exactly how Agents DiNozzo, David, and Gibbs, uh, explained-"

"You're not sounding very convincing to me, Agent McGee."

"I, uh, know…but it is the truth…despite how it sounds-I sound." He takes a breath; sweat beginning to form on his skin that is both exposed and covered.

Fornell looks pathetically at McGee; then turns around to stare into the two-way mirror.

"Your boy over here is making me feel a little annoyed!" He hollers rudely. "Not only is he babbling like any idiot, he's trying to pass on bunch of lies."

"They're not lies!" McGee exclaims. "The deaths of Eli David and Michael Rivkin were not planned." His eyes moisten with everything that has happened and is happening to his nerve system. "I swear."

Fornell hums slightly, but never breaks his gaze with McGee.

"Let me ask you something, Agent McGee…" He takes a quick breath of air. "Is there anything you find correct about all that's taken place?"

"We-well, I … I'm not sure exactly what you mean…exactly…" He shuts his eyes for a few seconds.

Sighing, Fornell begins to circle the room; his attention on the bundle of nerves positioned in the center of the room.

"You're the teams golden tech boy, correct?"

McGee swallows. "…I wouldn't exactly call it that…but yes, I guess if we weren't to split hairs on the proper term for someone with my skills, I would very much be the teams 'golden tech boy'." He inhales as his shoulders begin to straighten a bit. "What's that got to do with the case?"

"That's for me to know and for you to eventually figure out." Fornell clears his throat. "I'm assuming you know the quickest way to cover a person's tracks so long as it be on a digital device, am I right?"

"I didn't hack into anyone's computer." McGee automatically states. "I'm not a hacker, I'm an NCIS Special Agent."

"That's not what I asked."

"Yes." His answer is a violent hiss. "I do know how to dispose of evidence when on a computer or some sort of hard-drive."

"Do you know how to enter databases whether they be NCIS' or…any other Agency?"

McGee looks straights through the two-way mirror, hoping for some sort of interruption that will give him a break.

"Answer the question, Agent McGee."

"Yes." He answers quickly, but truthfully. "I do."

"I'm nowhere as knowledgeable as you in the technology field, but I do know that entering into another Agency's database is indeed breaking some sort of protocol-"

"I didn't hack into anyone's computer." McGee stands his ground.

"Never or just for this case in question?"

"…in this case…" He sighs heavily.

"Let me ask you this again, Agent McGee. Do you feel that what has taken place so far, with this case, is correct?"

* * *

Ducky holds his breath as the Director wobbles slightly next to him; her shoulder brushing against his lightly.

"He's going to break him, Ducky…" Her voice is a sickening mutter.

"He has no choice, but to answer the question." Ducky explains. "He has no choice, but to be…broken…" He swallows the sickness that tickles the back of his throat.

* * *

The younger man opens his mouth to speak, but can not find the strength to utter a single word. Closing his mouth, his eyes follow for a few seconds before they fly open as if the dam that held the pressure of the situation back, has been blasted to shreds.

"Hmmno…" McGee groans.

"Come again, Agent McGee?"

He shakes his head from left to right. "No." His tongue flicks across his bottom lip nervously. "…no…I don't think it was correct."

"That'll be all, Agent McGee." Fornell reaches for the case folder that was left closed all this time.

"I _know_ it was right." He shrugs innocently. "Who else was going to settle this?"

"What exactly needed to be settled?"

"None of your business, Fornell." His eyes darken.

Fornell chuckles. "Easy there, Agent McGee. I may be on your turf, but all of you are on my rules." His voice threatening. "I would watch what else comes out of your mouth before you make matters worse for everyone involved."

"You're not being fair!" He declares. "You've conducted two of your interrogations _with_ a member from Mossad present. You conducted two of your interrogations _without_ a member of Mossad present."

"That's a minor technicality."

"With all due respect…that's bullshit." McGee rises from his chair. "NCIS has no room for bullshit. This _team_ has no room for bullshit."

"You walk out of here and I will hold you in a Federal prison."

"You have no proof to hold me!" McGee argues.

"I'll find proof."

* * *

"Damn it…Fornell…" The Director shudders. "What is it that he wants to find?"

"Answers." Ducky says simply. "…and more than one, I am afraid."

Covering her face with one of her hand, she shudders again.

"It is too late to go back now, Director."

"Why did I ever give Tony such approval?" Her shoulders fall. "Jethro was right…I wanted to make myself feel better for the heartbreak I gave to Tony."

"You are going to give Jethro the satisfaction of proving himself correct?" Ducky watches her face grow more serious. "You can't go back, Jenny…what's done is done…"

"…I can't put away an entire team for the rest of their lives!" She whispers harshly.

Ducky frowns at the realization he never saw so clearly before.

"If only Ziva had stayed…" He mutters sadly. "If only…"

* * *

"As will we." McGee offers.

"Your team is going to have one hell of a hard time trying to solve a case they are a part of. Nobody is going to buy any of the evidence you present."

The doorknob twists and Gibbs follows; a sternness within his stride. "You're finished, McGee." He jerks his neck. "Let's go."

"You can't interfere with an interrogation, Gibbs-you know that!" Fornell barks.

"You're not supposed to throw questions at one of my Agents when they've got nothing to do with the case." Gibbs reminds the shorter man.

"I'm doing my job."

"Covering tracks? Hacking?" Gibbs shakes his head. "That's got nothing to do with the deaths of Director David and Michael Rivkin."

"No?" Fornell raises his eyebrows. "How the hell did Agent DiNozzo manage to find Lior?"

"What Agent DiNozzo did had nothing to do with Agent McGee." Gibbs growls. "Go, McGee."

"Those two?" Fornell laughs. "Come on, Gibbs-those two bicker until the sun goes down."

"MA-GEE!" Gibbs hollers. "GO, DAMN IT!"

"HE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL I'M FINISHED!" Fornell raises his voice voice. "DAMN IT GIBBS, BACK OFF!"

"You've got your answers. You could've stopped at me. McGee was a tag-a-long, that's it. He doesn't know anything. He wouldn't know anything. He can't get blamed for following orders!" The Marine begins to shatter and shatter until his remaining 'cool' is dripping into the red and the hotness of heat. "LET IT GO FORNELL. LET _HIM_ GO!"

"This is bullshit, Gibbs." The pulsing in his jaw is evident through his skin. "This is bullshit and you know it!"

"You had your chance. You asked questions. You got answers. Now you need proof and you don't have any of that!" He pants. "Don't come back to Headquarters without damn good proof that my entire team had _planned_ to murder the Director of Mossad and a former FBI Agent. You-got-that…Fornell?"

Fornell stares until he blinks. "Yeah…I got it, Gibbs."

"Good."

Fornell leaves the small room; the door left opened in a very rude manner.

"Boss?" McGee looks to his superior.

"You were just following orders, McGee…that's all." He says as he tries to get his anger under control. "You're the least one to be suspected."

"I can handle-"

"I know you _can_, McGee…but this isn't your fight." He pauses. "This is between DiNozzo, Ziva…and myself."

"So…you're asking me to sit back and watch the three of you be put away for something none of you did?"

"What isn't it that we _didn't_ do, McGee?" Gibbs asks; his eyebrows alert. "Ziva killed a Mossad, Tony killed a Mossad, and I…I led them to _kill_." He face cringes with pain.

"With good reason!" McGee feels fear boiling in the pit of his stomach.

"_Good_? _Reason_?" He huffs, then falls silent. "…we wouldn't be in this position if things were _good_…if things had a _reason_, McGee."

Director Shepard turns to Ducky and falls into his warm arms.

The chill of the storm is too much to take.


	33. Needing Clearance

**Author's Note:** Trying to get the new chapters in as quickly as I can...still got lots of stuff going on over at my end-but who wants to hear about that? How about last night's premiere of NCIS season 8? Oh...I loved it. I really, really, REALLY...did. Nothing at all like the opening to season 7 (or season 7 in it's entirety...yeah not a 'big' fan of that season). What's this? We have contact by Eli David and Director Vance? Oh...shady... I like it! I like it a lot! Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed the new episode...if you did not...I'm probably going to get yelled at for mentioning a spoiler-but my spoiler is very "vague" so it's not like I gave the entire thing away (they didn't even give us that much to give away concerning Eli David in the first place!) Anyway...I hope to god there's a ton more Zibbs fics that start pushing out this year because the Zibbs category really needs to UP their game-and I mean that shit! Alrighty-short chapter, but enjoy anyway. I'll try to get the next one in as soon as possible (maybe sometime this week!) _Later Days_...**GEEK!**

* * *

**Chapter 33: Needing Clearance**

Director Shepard watches as the hostile Marine nearly finishes the long hallway in large strides.

"Just a second Jethro!" She calls out to him; her feet taking her where she wants to be as fast as they possibly can.

His feet stop against the floor like blocks of cement. Turning around, he faces her just as she finds herself too close to his face.

"I don't go a second, Jen." His tone low and aggressive.

"You haven't much else at the moment, either." She informs him as she takes a step back. "You're not at liberty to send the FBI back home."

"Yeah, well, I didn't see you trying to break their balls." He retorts.

"That isn't my job."

"Could have fooled me." He closes his eyes and tries to keep the majority of his bad attitude at bay. "They had nothing to hold us accountable for."

"What about the bodies of Director David and Michael Rivkin?"

"Caught in a crossfire, Jen. That's all it is. Just two of our own caught up in a crossfire…" He pushes his shoulders back as he inhales sharply. "…one of our own…"

"You're not thinking of leaving Ziva out in the woods on this case-"

"I didn't say that."

"Did you think it?" She frowns. "Now _isn't_ the time to let _past incidents _stand in the way of your better judgment."

"Right now my judgment doesn't mean shit, and neither does theirs." He sighs. "You saw Fornell in there, he wanted to bury us…all of us."

"He wants answers and…I hate to say it, Jethro, but I want answers as well. I am in a very tricky position-"

"Don't want to hear it, Jen." His eyes burn into hers. "You're _always_ in these types of positions-"

"I do what I can to help not only your team, but the greater good."

"You're just trying to go down in the 'Hall of Fame' here at NCIS." He huffs. "You want to play rough house with those beneath you and be the talk of the town with the hot shots. I caught on to your way of operations a lot time ago, Jen."

"This isn't about what you think of my decisions, Jethro."

"You couldn't even begin to guess on how I feel about your decisions." He shakes his head in shame. "You've _used_ my team to do your dirty work."

"The work I do is worthy of investigations. With investigations comes agents who are required to investigate. I choose the agents I feel will get the job done as quickly and as safely as humanly possible. There is no fault behind what it is that I do as a Director-"

"No, but it's your use of _power_ that fucks everybody in the end."

"I never told Agent DiNozzo to fall in love."

"Yeah, well, he did."

"You'd be liable of the same thing, Jethro, damn it…and you know it. We all could be liable."

"I don't mix business with pleasure." He defends his usual rule.

"His business _was_ pleasure." She reminds him. "The heart wants what it wants."

He chuckles cruelly. Her words stabbing him in the regional areas of his heart.

"I didn't come here for a confession, Jen."

"I don't love you, Jethro." She shuts down any ego trip he might be having. "…but I know what love is and I can't remain at fault for Agent DiNozzo's heartbreak…nor can I remain at fault for your own."

"Good, and if you do not decide to _truly _help me and my team, then you'll _forever_ remain at fault for _this_. I'll see to it that you do."

Her mouth grows smaller as her eyes enlarge, slightly.

"What is it that you would like me to do?"

He waits to read her; her eyes serving as the source of confirmation he is yearning for.

"Keep the FBI out of Headquarters and off our backs-"

"You're speaking like this is an investigation for you and your team?" She cocks an eyebrow. "It'll never happen, Jethro. The entire Agency will suffer the consequences."

"Doubting they'll be entirely good?"

"Yes." She speaks honestly. "There isn't any way for you or anyone from your team to predict the future. Besides, what are we looking at-plane tickets to Tel Aviv?"

"I don't know Jen, are we?"

"I can't let you return there-not until this case is closed. Not until Mossad cools off."

"Their leader was just killed by an American, they're never going to 'cool' off, Jen. We _need_ to work fast and we _need_ to work now."

"What are you hoping to find?"

"Evidence of what went on that day."

She grins; a feeling of pride for _knowing_ him and his strong ability to get any job done. "Fornell isn't going to like this."

"He got one of my ex-wives, he can't win 'em all." He mutters, a slight grin playing on his lips. "…I need to do this…Jen. I've got to clear DiNozzo…"

She knits her eyebrows in slight confusion. "…what about Ziva?"

He looks away from her and focuses on the tops of his dress shoes for a minute or two.

"You're not going to leave her stranded in Tel Aviv, Jethro." She states sternly. "She doesn't deserve that."

His gaze returns to her. "She's got her _own_ people to answer to." His anger flaring somewhat. "I can't speak for her."

"She _needs_ your help…even if she doesn't ask for it."

"I've got to clear DiNozzo." He swallows hard; his adam's apple bobbing around for a split second. "He's my Senior agent…and he doesn't deserve this." He inhales sharply. "…and I owe him…when I retired…he took over as team leader and I never thanked him for that."

She feels the strength of his inner struggle and it shakes her because she understands his need to help a team member, and because she worries about his former team member.

"What do'ya say…Jen?"

"The ball is in your court, Jethro…" He nods, then abruptly turns on his heel and flees from the hallway. Knowing she is alone, she silently prays. "…don't drop it…"


	34. Sitting Together

**Chapter 34: Sitting Together**

Gibbs falls uncharacteristically behind as DiNozzo leads the way through the terminal. Ziva is between the two men as their remaining field agent is keeping his feet planted in American soil as requested by Gibbs.

The flight to Tel Aviv will take hours and the three Agents understand this.

* * *

Tony leans his head against the back of his airplane seat. His style in dress is primitively casual; a simple t-shirt that most likely came from an American Eagle outlet though he will most likely swear it came from a more upscale outlet, and a pair of warn-out jeans without any noticeable holes. Sunglasses curve into the collar of his shirt making him look as if he is a returning visitor ready to embark on one hell of a vacation. If the outsiders looking in had any idea…

Ziva is within the same category. Her shirt simple, but loose fitting as she needs room for her bodily wounds to heal, and her pants, the usual khaki cargo. Her hands lay folded on top of her legs as she tries to find the reason she is studying the ordinary floor of the plane hallway.

Their superior is clad within his usual means; a pair of dress slacks and a polo shirt with a dress jacket thrown over it. He sits with his hands straight out in front of him; almost looking as if he is going to clasp them over each knee. As he inhales sharply, Ziva shifts next to him. Her thought as to why the floor of the plane is so interesting has been successfully answered.

The plane engines are at a buzzing calm as the head flight attendant explains safety in case of an emergency.

Ziva takes in the flight attendants' appearance and sizes her up as someone that would be within the usually unlimited filter of Anthony DiNozzo's tastes. After several more minutes of listening, she looks through the isle and watches as Tony peacefully rests in his window seat on the opposite side of the plane. An action that makes her wonder just how deep his damage goes and if he will ever truly return to the Tony she once knew, or would he be the man she _sometimes _thought existed somewhere within himself.

Gibbs stares out his window at the runway operatives that are buzzing around underneath the plane's wing. With their large headphones over their ears he smirks at their obvious complications with trying to speak and 'listen' to one another.

* * *

The first beverage cart begins its journey from the front of the plane. Its wheels along sends a message directly through to Tony's ears. His eyes pop open and he straightens himself as he nearly leans over the elderly woman sitting next to him.

"Excuse me, young man!" She hollers; one corner of her book is being bent by the force of Tony's shoulder.

His eyes open in surprise and he tries to find a minute to apologize, but falls short as the woman uses her fist to hit him right in the shoulder.

"Hey!" He rasps while rubbing his shoulder. "Where'd you retire from?"

"I'm not retired!" She punches him again.

"Ow!" He cries; a slight pout forming. "I'm sorry!"

"Young man I will not tolerate this form of behavior the entire flight so I suggest you straighten your posture and you refrain from leaning into my personal space."

"What if I've got to use the bathroom?"

"You hold it!" She glares at him, then continues to pleasantly read her book.

Tony shrinks into his eat; wanting to mutter some unkind words, but figures if better keep whatever he feels like saying to himself…for now.

The Israeli turns her head again, making her vision direct with anything or anyone that is straight ahead of her. A small smile lingers on her lips, but she does not dare to laugh.

Gibbs finds boredom with staring out the window. The plane is flying above the thick, puffy clouds causing the land behind it be hidden. Trying to stifle a yawn, he moves his neck and orders his head to look in a completely differently direction.

"Did I miss something?" He tries to be casual, but there is still so much rigidness there.

"Tony seems to be getting into trouble."

He looks across the plane at a semi-fearful Tony who seems to be sitting between a rock and a hard place. "Hmm…"

She begins to open her mouth again, but closes it to pause as she wonders what will happen if she chooses to elaborate.

He senses her want and decides to give her a moment. "What'd he do?"

"He accidentally leaned over his seat when he heard the wheels of the beverage cart-"

"He better order something _practical_." Gibbs mutters; the gruffness in his voice full-fledged.

"…He has not ordered yet." She tries to sound casual, but the tension in her voice plows through full force. "The woman sitting next to him put him in his place."

Gibbs nods, then shrugs. "She looks like she an take him."

"Should we be offering her a position on the team?"

Ziva instantly looks down at her lap; mentally scolding herself.

"_Your_ team…should _you_ be offering a position on _your_ team."

"Gotta put it back _together_, first." He says lowly.

She nods once at him and quickly returns her gaze straight ahead as a means to end the already short conversation, but Gibbs wants to talk more, causing him to shift slightly in his seat and stare at the side of her face.

"Is there something you want?"

"Oh yeah…" He admits. "…more than something…"

"Everything, then?"

"Impossible." He states, a sigh threatening to escape him. "What about your team?"

"My team is dead." She looks as if she is having a flashback; their bodies bleeding and still on the warehouse floor. "My team…is dead…" She says again; this time almost as if she is only now realizing this.

"How do you feel about that?"

"I am afraid there isn't much time for that."

"It's a long flight."

"It is need to know…" She turns to stare at him sharply. "…and you need not know."

"You want my help?"

"Not if it means you're going to turn me into your own personal interrogation."

"Thought never crossed my mind."

"I do not believe you." She feels an instant chill; causing her to momentarily shudder. "I have no reason to believe you."

"I could say the same thing."

"You already have."

"I haven't said a damn thing to you about this!" He finally snaps; his eyes growing small, yet angry.

"It goes without saying."

"Christ." He smacks his hands on top of his legs. "I don't need another DiNozzo-"

"Tony has _nothing _to do with this."

"You _sure_ about that, Ziva?"

"You want to drill me for information-information I already gave to Agent Fornell. I have got nothing left to give, Gibbs-nothing!"

"Did you know your husband had been an Agent for the FBI?" He asks; the question leaving his mouth semi-sour.

She keeps her vision off of him, but her mind begins to buzz from the question.

"Better give up the information before this plane lands, David." He speaks harshly to her. "Once we're on the ground, you're on your own unless you give me reason to back you up."

"I will not have you _save_ me, Gibbs-I am _not _Abby." She is just as harsh. "As far as I am concerned I deserve to not only pay for the death of my team members, but for putting Tony in this position." She sighs. "There is _nothing_ you can do for me and there is _nothing_ I want done by you…so leaving me on my own is not the _worst _thing you could do to me…it isn't the worst thing you have _done_ to me."

"Thought we patched _that _up." He runs his hand over his face; scrubbing at it slightly. "Thought you _accepted_ my apology- thought you understood that I _understood_-thought that we-"

"I am not speaking about _that_." Her eyes flash with hurt at his instant and careless reaction. "When I came back the first time, I had found a way to deal with what happened…but now I see that you will never forget what did."

"Ziva-"

"Admit it, Gibbs-you burn so much from that memory alone."

"I've got every right to." His voice low, but sharp. "It is my job to protect my teammates, not to hurt them-not to take something, anything, away from them."

"You hadn't been the first."

"Missing, my point." His eyes flicker to the snack cart that is beginning to make its rounds. "…I took something from you that you didn't want to give-that wasn't up for grabs."

"Think of the situation-"

"Don't want to." He stares back at her. "Every time I do…I want to blame DiNozzo and McGee for losing connection." He throws his head back against the headrest and takes a deep breath as his eyes slip close.

"That hardly seems fair."

"It doesn't." He confirms, then opens his eyes. "…can't tell me you've never thought abut it."

"Stop it, Gibbs." She keeps her eyes away from his general direction. "What's done is done-"

"Just because you've found a way to do deal with _it_ and what's come _after_ it doesn't mean I've gotten there!" He snaps; his voice raising in volume and making the man behind him clear his throat either on purpose or needed. "You left me in the dark, Ziva!"

"And how many times have I _apologized_ for doing so?" She snaps right back; the man behind them clears his throat once more indicating that he is doing it on purpose. "You have never once _taken_ my apology for what it is. You never once gave me a real _chance_ to be let in!"

"I took you out on the water." Saying this alone makes him feel ridiculous. "…I thought that meant something."

"You only took me out on the water to pry me open. You only wanted information on my position with the CIA."

"Only because I didn't want to see you get hurt-I didn't want to see you suffer whatever consequences they were setting you up for."

"Well that is over now. _I_ overstepped my boundaries and _I_ ended my position with that agency. They were _my_ choices-_I_ brought the suffering to myself."

The flight attendant appears with the food cart. Smiling at them both, she waits for their order.

"Bottled water, please."

"Coffee."

The attendant pours a rich cup of black coffee, tries to offer cream, but Gibbs refuses. Handing it to him, he mutters a thank you. As soon as Ziva feels the bottle of water within her hand, she uncaps it and takes a large gulp.

"Why?"

She takes another gulp of her cold water and then twists the cap back on top of the bottle.

"Habit." She says almost icily. "Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to."

"How would I know this?" He wonders out loud. "You never gave me enough time to study you." He catches her sharp look as if a knife had been thrown at him. "Easy-I study all my agents so I know who to give my direct orders to."

She does not speak as her eyes wander over to Tony's general area. His gaze is back settling on what is outside of his window.

"I know their weaknesses, I know what makes them comfortable…uncomfortable…I know-"

"Your most favorites and your least favorites. I get it, Gibbs." She looks at him. "Like the rules you have tucked away in your memory bank, you've got a little department where you rank people you run across."

"I didn't run across you, Ziva-_you_ ran across me and I took you on." He corrects her. "…and I don't _rank_ my people or people in general."

"Then why is it that Abby carries herself in a way I was almost certain you would disapprove of?" She jumps to answer for him. "…because she is your favorite. You know it, I know it, the team knows it, and she knows it."

"Abby's been through a lot. She needs more than a considerable amount of time to heal." He speaks without truly thinking.

She laughs flippantly. "I never thought you'd spend your life holding someone's hand."

He shuts his mouth with a sip of his steaming hot coffee.

"Considering what you have just told me, the both of you should find comfort in the production of healing-"

"Knock it off, Ziva." He almost orders. "Abby and I are close-we always have been and we always will be-and I don't hold her hand, I help her along. She's not like you-she gets easily bothered by things."

"Right." She says simply. "Nothing can ever bother me."

"I didn't say that."

"It goes without saying." She offers him a glance.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he only succeeds with taking another sip of his coffee. As soon as he realizes that his the sips were larger than he intended, he hears a buckle being unbuckled. Looking over, he watches as she stands from her seat and leaves her seatbelt at either side of her chair.

He almost asks her where she is going, but refrains when he sees her eyes catch the location of the bathrooms.


	35. Revisiting Terror

**Author's Note: **Hey guys, hope everyone's doing well. Hope ya'll enjoy the new chapter and I hope that I didn't make too many spelling errors. As for the dashes issue, must be causing that because I always put double dashes for pausing when I am typing it in my document file. It's started to piss me off here and there, but oh well...I can get over it. Also whoaaaa...did we or did we not see what happened between Gibbs and Ziva last Tuesday? That episode had Zibbs written all over it-oh...I am still squealing over it.

Also, I need to make a mention that Carry On is getting close to its end. I just want to mention it so nobody gets a slap in the face when I post a chapter and say, "Well this is the last of it guys!" lmao. Anyway, talk to ya soon-I'm off to get myself some Cherry Vanilla ice cream mmm...and I know I'm gonna crush some Lady Fingers on top of it, too because I feel like it...damn it. Ahaha...later days guys!-**GEEK**.

* * *

**Chapter 35: Revisiting Terror**

The warehouse is as it was; minus the bodies. The stench of blood and gore mixes in with the tiredness in the atmosphere.

Gibbs allows himself a moment to take a deep breath as Ziva and Tony walk shoulder to shoulder; steadily, into the ruins.

Blood stains appear soaked into the dusty floor; the attempt to clean up the crime scene is poor. There is one spot that catches her attention; the one where Lior took his last breath. Then another; Michael, the man she trusted and she possibly loved one way or another…and the third; her father…the man that created her monster-like strengths.

Tony swallows the sickness at the back of his throat. He wants to turn around and make a run for the open warehouse door, but his new-found strength keeps him grounded and focused.

"Spread out. Find something." Gibbs barks his orders with such coldness.

Tony instantly turns his neck and gives Ziva a look of mild resentment. He knows of his superior's need to help, but his delivery while doing so is something Tony finds hard to fully accept.

"He is right." Ziva almost whispers. "We _need_ to find something, Tony."

He keeps her gaze; this act being something that makes something inside of her bounce around wildly.

* * *

Outside thick air clings to their skin; their clothes serving as a protection from the sun, but an irritation to their body temperature.

Tony works at ground level; his fingers digging through the dirty and creating dust all around. His clothes filthy; his face smeared with dust and sweat.

Gibbs works at plane level; his frame towering and intimdating as he nearly backs Ziva into the a wall of the warehouse with his voice alone.

"I do not know, Gibbs!" She shouts at him at him with the same force.

"That's not gonna help your teammate, David!" He barks; his head nodding in the direction of Tony. "It's your people who want to put him away!"

She grits her teeth and holds her tongue at his prejudice declaration; but inside her head she wants to extend her fist and swipe it across his reddish face.

"We are all in this, Gibbs. I do not believe that this entirely Mossad's fault!" She stalks away from him, but her mouth will not rest. "Their Director has been killed!"

The Marine's eyes light with rage.

Tony slowly rises from the ground; his hands filthy and finding their way on his hips. His ears are alert; perky and obtaining the verbal lashings of two people; one he cares immensely for and the other he sometimes wants to reach out for and…_love_.

"Your father stuck his nose where it didn't belong!" He manages to get out, but through a raspy voice. "He wanted to finish what he started when all I wanted was to get DiNozzo's ass and _your_ ass back home _safely_."

"So what was the point in lying?" Tony interrupts their tiff to voice his own needs and wants for answers.

Gibbs fixes his gaze on his team leader. "…what the hell are you talking about, DiNozzo?"

"Ziva lied. You lied." Tony is direct and unusually serious. "About Ari's Death. I want to know whose idea it had been to lie." Gibbs opens his mouth, but Tony cuts him off. "Don't tell me it isn't any of my business, damn it, _I've_ been through enough bullshit. We _all_ have. Too many _questions_; we want _answers_ damn it. _I_ want answers."

"Ari was out of control." Ziva blurts before Gibbs can even find a direct and correct answer. "He was ready to shoot Gibbs. Gibbs was unarmed." She sighs. "A member of your team had already been killed…I could not let Ari take another one down."

"…why'd you lie, Ziva?"

"Because I didn't want to answer to my father." She admits. "If I would have told him that instead of _calming_ my brother, I had shot him…I had _killed_ him…"

A disgusting taste rises in the back of her throat and spills over her tongue.

She looks at him; embarrassed. "He would have sent someone to kill me."

A slight breeze blows past them; it is warm, but it creates a soothing feel to all of their painful, and open wounds.

"Of course none of that matters now…or when I returned to Mossad after…_after_…" She closes her eyes; her shoulders falling uncharacteristically. "I was in a different place then, Tony…I did not want to believe that I could exist entirely without my father…that I could be a better person without his _approval_…" She takes a step in his direction. "Do not _hate_ me for what you could _never_ understand."

His eyes give her confirmation for her request, but he does not make a move towards her.

Behind her slightly trembling form, Gibbs watches the direct connection between the both of them; causing something inside of him to tighten and to vibrate.

"Who's this Lior guy that you both mentioned?" Gibbs breaks their connection as quickly as he can.

"A dear friend."

"Mossad."

Gibbs eyes them both, then turns his attention more to Ziva.

"This friend leave anything behind that could help us help DiNozzo get off?" He asks calmly. "If Mossad found something, they'll never tell."

"Director Shepard had our people investigate the scene as well." Tony notifies him. "Our people turned this place upside down, boss."

"Yeah, but we didn't." He makes his point; then begins walking around the warehouse. "Anything could have been easily overlooked, especially out here. Keep looking."

"There's nothing out here, boss!" Tony calls after the older man, but does not succeed in stopping him in his tracks. "I've had it up to hear with all this dirt." He mutters.

Ziva smirks at his dingy state and agrees with a slight nod of her head. "You wear it well, Tony."

"Oh yeah. I'm sure it brings out my smoky eyes."

"…perhaps…" She says simply.

His eyebrow raises with interest. "…so you do find my eyes smoky?"

"…perhaps…" She says smily; this time with a small smile.

He makes a low grunt while pondering what she really means. After several seconds, he lowers himself to the ground and begins digging again.

"Stay close…" He calls to her.

"We're not _targets_ anymore, Tony." She says sincerely.

"…don't _ever_ be so sure, David." He holds her gaze once again.

* * *

The hotel room is dark; the man inside of it is lonely and chilled from his memories. His hand trembles with the remembering feel of the metal gun pressing into his skin; his grip so tight and demanding. His finger burns with the memory of the trigger slick against his flesh. His eyes burn at the brim with tears unshed; anger boiling through the blood in his veins. He grunts; he groans.

Gibbs' Senior Agent huffs while sitting on top of the surprisingly comfortable mattress as sweat cascades down his face, neck, chest, and back.

These are not nightmares; they are reality.


	36. Waiting for the Goth

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay everybody. I had begun the chapter a while ago, but I never found the chance to finish...until a few minutes ago. Two weeks ago I ended up getting "Bell's Palsy" meaning that the nerves in the left size of my face were deactivated from a virus. I still have to tape my eyelid shut with a cotton ball and tape in order to keep it properly close at night. I also have to put artificial tears in my left eye during the day so I can protect my eye from damage. My mouth has begun to straighten up so I'm able to eat more easily now. I still can't smile properly though-you can only see my teeth in a full-blown smile on the right side of my face, not the left. Believe me when I say, it really brought me down. I had fought with my father two nights before it happened-I'm sure the stress and my nerves brought on the virus and then ended in the result of "BP". I panicked-thought that I was going to be stuck like that for the rest of my life. I've got about two more weeks to heal, but I'm getting there.

Anyway, just wanted to explain why I disappeared. Hope everyone enjoys the chapter. If not, I'm sorry to disappoint! _LATER DAYS_-**GEEK**!

* * *

**Chapter 36: Waiting for the Goth**

McGee sits in front of his typewriter; coffee mug filled to the rim with a sweet and sour tea. A few pebbles of sugar cover a part of his work desk.

His mind is blank regardless of all the issues that run laps through his educated mind. What has happened is something he never wants to extract from his mind to use for someone else's reading entertainment. What has happened is as dear as anything worth keeping…and it is important to him that he never changes his mind about what it all means.

So he refuses to write; his hands do not even extend to touch the blackened keys. Instead he reaches for his coffee mug and tries to settle on the breathing of his partner and friend who is sleeping somewhat peacefully on his living room couch.

The plane is crowded, not only with people, but their gadgets. A long flight from one country to another calls for extensive usage of mp3 players, mini DVD-players, hand-held video game consoles, and the usual attachment to every-day cellular phones.

It is as if the seating set-up flying out of DC is the exact same as the seating set-up flying into DC; aside from the much younger woman that now sits besides Tony.

Gibbs is washed out and warn, but his deep and determined eyes plays with any onlooker's opinion on what he could be feeling. He wants it this way so he makes it this way; just another attempt at keeping his hard demeanor strong, in fear that if he gives what is inside, away, he will be without protection…without ammo to fight back with.

He moves in his seat, well aware of the quiet female next to him. Her eyes are locked on something ahead of them and her body language is stiff; unwelcoming. In the back of his mind he can not help, but think that his presence alone is the majority of the reason why she appears this way. In the front of his mind, he can not help, but understand that his _words_ alone are the majority of the reason why she _feels_ this way.

He remembers what he saw. Her eyes _never_ focused on his; so comfortable and so strong, since the incident, the way they had with _his_ eyes.

Then he tries to remember what he never knew by approximating the runtime for _their_ time spent together. All the times where he was too busy blocking the mere thought of her out of his mind and verbally pushing her away from him.

It grips him in the pit of his stomach, but it also makes his blood boil. It is a terrible feeling. A dual feeling; a split feeling that provokes different choices for his actions. The reason for his verbal lashings and his cold shoulders.

* * *

The squad room simmers with silence as the buzzing of the computers come to a halt. It is time for everything to shut down; for everyone to go home, but the shadows that scatter across the far away walls and the well-kept floors are created by three individuals who have been severely thrown off the beaten path.

The light from DiNozzo's computer screen pops out of its blackened shell as soon as his foot hit's the side of his desk. He mutters something about 'sleep mode', which goes unknown to Gibbs and Ziva.

Ziva finds McGee's desk chair and senses comfort and warmth. Her eyes instantly fall on her old desk, diagonal from where she is sitting…and nestled to the direct right of a man she has no idea on how to clearly read.

Gibbs hovers in front of his desk; his seat empty and waiting, but his stomach too nervous to relax.

"Gonna go see Abs."

"She's not here yet." Tony informs him while typing slowly. "Said she'd call."

Gibbs knits his eyebrows. "You talk to her?"

"I did." Tony is much more firmer than he needs to be.

"When?"

Ziva can sense trouble about to bubble, but know she is trapped. She lacks the authority to wander around the Federal building these days.

"About an hour ago." He easily clears his throat. "She's with McGee."

Gibbs's lips purse for a second, then he shrugs. "Where are they?"

"His place. She fell asleep on his couch."

Gibbs turns at the corner of his desk and sits down in his chair. He jabs the return key on his keyboard to bring his screen to life, but it does not budge. He then takes his hand and whacks the side of it, but the hard plastic only stings the inside of his hand.

"Why's this thing not working?"

"What 'thing'?"

He glares in DiNozzo's direction and finds annoyance that Tony is unable to look at him in the eyes. "My computer, DiNozzo-why's it not working?"

"Don't know boss, my name's not Probie McGee." He says with a tone of voice filled with boiling annoyance. "Maybe you finally broke the damn thing."

"I didn't break it." Gibbs says lowly, mostly to himself rather than the other two people in the room. "You using yours?"

"Um…yeah." Tony gives him a weird look as he creates an invisible circle around where he is and what he is doing. "Use McGee's."

Ziva's ears register the suggestion and in a matter of seconds, she wheels her chair to the middle of the two desks.

"It is yours." She tells Gibbs.

He jerks his neck sharply and his eye twitches, but he gets out of his chair anyway. "Don't gotta move…" He mutters, and she does not hear.

Ziva sits with uncertainty as she tries to find comfort between the hostile vibe that has instantly formed between the two men. Finally, after a few more minutes, she stands from her chair and walks into the center of the room.

Gibbs watches her hold her arms protectively around her chest. Her back faces him as she studying her old working quarters.

Standing hunched over, he sighs loudly as he feels the strain of the muscles in his neck. Shooting out of the position, he walks over to McGee's chair and roughly grabs the back of it.

DiNozzo quickly glances to the right, but doesn't think much of Gibbs action and instantly returns to checking his email.

Suddenly a loud slam causes Ziva to spin around and DiNozzo to jerk his head to the right.

Gibbs stands behind the chair he had previously slammed into McGee's desk. "Well-that got your attention." He makes his remark to Ziva. "Yours too, DiNozzo." He continues. "Something goin' on that I should know about?"

DiNozzo flashes Ziva a look. "Don't think so, 'boss'…" He clears his throat, then licks his lips quickly. "We've been with you for the last 72 hours."

"Then why do I feel like I'm being left out?" He crosses his arms over his chest; something so uncharacteristic of himself.

"Probably because you weren't really 'there'." DiNozzo stares at his fingers as they hover over his keyboard. "You don't know what it felt like to be caught in the middle…of a crossfire."

Gibbs grows wild-eyed. "You tryin' to tell me I don't understand?"

"I'm not trying." DiNozzo now looks to him. "You don't."

"You don't know what you're talkin' about, DiNozzo-"

"Oh, I don't?" He breaks into a sneer, cutting his superior off with total force. "Right-and you do." He sneers again. "You've never been in a position to make the decision that I made."

"You had a choice."

"I DIDN'T HAVE A CHOICE!" He finds himself on his feet; his chest rapidly rising and falling.

Gibbs unfolds his arms and advances towards the raging Italian. "Bullshit. You had a choice. You had a choice to come to me before going to the Director." Gibbs bites back on a growl. "You put yourself in that position-"

"Gibbs…" Ziva says quietly.

"What the hell were you thinking, DiNozzo?" His voice echoes down the empty hallways of the level they are on. "Huh?"

Ziva takes a step towards Gibbs, but does not close in on him. "Gibbs, drop it."

"Obviously I was thinking approximately. Obviously I was thinking about someone special. Obviously I wasn't trying to find the easy, yet STUPID route of handling whatever feelings I had." He swallows hard. "Obviously I wasn't behaving like a fucking coward."

"TONY!" Ziva overreacts through the usage of his name. "Enough."

"He's the one that started it."

"Don't let me be the one to finish it." She warns them both, but chooses to look DiNozzo in the eyes.

Gibbs appears inches away from DiNozzo's face. "She's right, DiNozzo. Don't let her be the one to clean up your dirty work."

Tony raises his hand; his fist is tight and ready. Ziva extends her hands and catches his arm before he extends it. "Don't."

Gibbs takes a step back; his eyes tired, saddened, confused, and alarmed. He clears his throat as he stares at his feet for a few seconds.

Tony realizes what he almost did and falls back in the same fashion as the older man. He sighs as he massages the sides of his forehead inwardly with his left hand.

Ziva's eyes brim with tears, but in seconds they return to normal.

"Boss, I…" He swallows and takes another step back. "…got to get some fresh air.

DiNozzo walks from the inside of his desk to the outside and shoots straight for the elevator.

Ziva looks after him, her mouth beggin' to call for him, but her mind telling her to give him his much needed space.

Turning back around, she realizes how close she is to a pain-stricken face. Her breath catches in her throat as she registers the mist in and around his eyes.

After a beat, she speaks. "I would not provoke him, Gibbs." She lets him walk away from her, thankful for the space he has created between them. "He is not in the position for this sort of treatment."

"I'm not in the position for it either, Ziva." He admits weakly, then finds his gruffness again. "DiNozzo made a mistake and he doesn't want to own up to it. I won't stand for that type of behavior-not from a member of my team."

"Tony already feels the error in his decision, Gibbs!" She grits her teeth in annoyance. "Will he ever admit that? No, most likely not. You never gave him a chance to admit his mistakes. You _never_ gave _any_ of us a damn chance!"

He shakes his head from side to side while keeping his head hung.

"You never wanted any of our apologies."

"It's a sign of weakness!" His voice falls short as if he finds the stupidity in his famous saying.

"Is it? Or is it a sign of weakness when you are the one that is unable to apologize?"

"I DIDN'T KILL YOUR FATHER, ZIVA!" He shakes slightly from anger. "…I can't apologize for that."

She looks sadly at him, but he is unable to figure out what her sadness is caused from. "I never asked you to."

"…then what do you want from me?"

"…I _could_ ask you the _same_ question…"

The elevator dings and a hyper-active woman in pig-tails shoots out of the elevator.

"GIBBS!" She lungs for him. "You're back! Where's Tony?" She twists and turn, unable to find Tony. "…Ziva…" She says once she locks eyes with her for a moment. "…funny seeing you here."

"I'm being followed by the FBI. I do not think it is wise for me to go far, Abby." Ziva states.

"Oh…yeah…right…hmm…" She returns to looking at Gibbs. "So what did you bring me?"

"A cell phone." He notices how she is lingering. "…and a Caf-Pow…" She continues to linger. "…and this." He gives her a peck on the cheek.

As Abby rushes away, Ziva turns away and allows a moment to figure out how she feels about his display of affection to the quirky Goth.

"Ziva-find DiNozzo." He gives her an order. "Tell him…tell him to just forget about it…all of it…for now…" He looks weakly in her direction. "We've got a case to solve before you two end up paying for something you shouldn't."

"I think it would be best if you explained things to him directly."

"Now's not the time." He wait's a second, but soon grows impatient. "GO. ZIVA. NOW!"


	37. The Gathering

**Author's Note:** Finals are finished...wee! Thought I'd post a new chapter, I know...this story has had more stops than continues, but what can I do? When it pours, it literally pours. Anyway, hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I also hope that everyone is staying safe this holiday season. Also, hope you like the chapter and if you do, then leave me a review. If you don't, well I guess you can leave me a review, too. I read all of them anyway. Later Days!**-GEEK**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 37: The Gathering**

The sophisticated Donald Mallard places the fifth and final lit candle on top of the elegant dining room table. The flickering of the flames cast a warm glow along his face, softening the aged details of his face.

On a small cart with wheels, he grabs a hold of two wine bottles; one filled with its delightfully dark, red liquid and the other filled with its simplistically light, yellow-tinted liquid. Next he reaches for several bottles of water and places them in an empty spot somewhere on the large dining room table.

He glances at the grandfather clock and notices that his guests are indeed going to be late. Sighing, he silently prays for the best, then finds a seat in the living room; soaking in the comforting silence of his mother's estate.

* * *

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The sounds continue to repeat themselves as his guests continue to devour what is left on their plates. Dessert is nearing around the corner, but Ducky feels that each and every person that is seated at his table is not entitled to any dessert after behaving in such an foolish way.

They sit before him as a dysfunctional family who have grown into dysfunctional strangers. Their self-tortures and their miseries are theirs alone; locked away tight, seldom showing themselves if only a tiny bit.

His disgusted gaze is caught by McGee who officially takes the prize for showing his amount of honest nervousness completely on the exterior of his body.

"What are your taste buds telling you, Timothy?"

McGee raises his eyes at the oddness of Ducky's question, but is grateful for the introduction of words after nearly twenty minutes of silence.

"Well, Ducky, they are telling me that dinner wasn't half-bad." Ducky raises his eyebrows. "…I can't wait for dessert?"

Ducky loses whatever hope he has in McGee for the moment and switches his attention to Abby. With her eyes normally wide, she gives him a full smile without showing a spec of her teeth.

"I must say Abigail, you are wearing a delightful shade of red."

"Why thank you, Donald." She refrains from patting herself on the back. "Gibbs bought it for me for my last birthday."

"What'd he get you this year?" Tony mumbles from beside McGee.

"He hasn't." She says quickly, but smiles anyway. "I'm sure they'll be something waiting for me sooner or later…sooner?"

Gibbs only looks at her, then shoves some more mashed potatoes in his mouth.

Abby knits her eyebrows, but grins anyway. In seconds she is back picking at her vegetables.

Ducky feels the sinking in the pit of his stomach deepen, but he still has not given up the entire extent of hope.

"Perhaps something besides clothing, Jethro?" Ducky looks to his closest friend.

Gibbs shrugs, then places his fork on his plate. "Don't know, Duck. Maybe."

Abby nearly squeals with delight as a long list of endless possibilities begin to reel through her brain.

"I'm shocked he even knows how to shop for clothes." Tony mutters to McGee who shifts a little in his chair.

"Just because you aren't sitting next to me, doesn't mean I can't hear you, DiNozzo."

"It's not a bad thing. I guess I'm just curious."

"Well, don't be. It's none of your business. It isn't your birthday."

"Even if it was, you'd never buy me anything. You never have."

McGee shifts a little more, then flashes a look in Ducky's direction.

"That's because I can't figure out what to get the man who has everything."

"I don't have everything." Tony defends himself.

"If you don't own it, DiNozzo, then you've got it close enough in your reach to own it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You take pride in how you spend your money."

"You're not going to throw my stolen sports car in my face, again, are you?"

"I never threw it in your face one time."

"You found it hilarious. So did McGee-"

"Wait-"

"…and Kate. She found it hilarious, too."

"That's because it only served you right." Gibbs leans over his plate completely now to get a better look at him. "You had no business parking it in front of a college dorm room."

"I had every right to park it wherever I felt like parking it."

"So you paid the price. Someone stole it and you never did get it back. You saw your most precious thing give its last breath on a television screen."

Silence abruptly falls over each member of the team as the tension buzzes wildly.

"…Perhaps it is time for Dessert…" Ducky inwardly feels sheepish for giving in so quickly, but the fear of this gathering causing more harm than good to an already damaged team is enough to bring on the final meal of the evening. "Coffee or tea?"

Abby jumps out of her seat, "TEA!"

Ducky smiles at her excitement, but prepares himself for the rest of the answers that he is sure are soon to follow.

"Neither, Duck." Gibbs pushes himself away from the table and walks into the living room, in need of his own breathing and elbow room.

McGee stands as if on cue, and delightfully agrees to having the same as Abby. Abby smiles in approval, then sits down politely.

"Since I'm used to having _everything_, I might as well do what I can to help you clear this beautiful table, Ducky." Tony's tone drips with sweet sarcasm and an indescribable pain.

"That won't be necessary, Anthony."

"Oh, I think it is, Ducky."

Tony mentally scolds himself for having such an attitude towards Ducky, so he offers the softest smile he can muster and stands from his seat.

"What will you have to drink?"

"Nothing, Duck. I'm not up for Dessert." Tony catches the sadness in Abby's eyes, but shakes his head in order to give him strength.

"Alright." Ducky heavily sighs. "I suppose it is only the three of us, then."

"Suppose so…Ducky." Abby frowns.

McGee gives Ducky a pitiful look; serving no real help to Ducky or the team in any way.

* * *

Large feet reach the last step of the porch just as a voice calls out.

Ducky shuts his front door; the hat on his head and the trench coat hanging off his shoulders give him a classically distinguished look.

"Just a minute, Jethro."

Gibbs feels his insides squeeze with pressure as the voice inside his head screams for him to continue his footsteps.

"STOP!"

The older man leaves his mouth partly open as the seriousness of his tone even startles him himself.

The younger man places his foot back into the place with the other, but chooses to let the light breeze soothe his warm face instead of turning around and facing his friend.

"You were able to decline my dessert offer, but I will _easily_ lose even more _respect_ for you than I already have if you do not turn around and _face_ _me_."

"Just getting some fresh air, Duck."

"This is more than fresh air, Jethro."

Gibbs inhales, "You're a host, be a host."

"The three adults inside are perfectly capable of entertaining themselves while they wait for my return." He begins to travel the distance between them. "Besides, I figured I would start with the one who started it all."

Gibbs whips around with a feverish finger nearly ready to jab his eldest friend. "I didn't start it. I _never_ started _this_."

"For goodness sakes, Jethro, here we are again. When are you going to learn to let it go? When are you going to get past this?" Ducky shakes his head. "What is it that you feel you can not do if you were to?"

"You telling' me I'm scared?"

"I _know_ you are _scared_." He pauses. "You are running scared. You have been for such a very, very…very long time."

"I _don't_ run." He stiffens. "I _don't_ get scared."

"Fine. I've known you long enough to take your word for it."

Gibbs turns around, ready to continue in the direction of a small walking path Ducky has within his mother's property.

"I am curious, though, Jethro…what is it that you _do_…if you are perfectly accurate with what you _do not_?"

Gibbs stops in his tracks; stiffening even more than before.

"There are three suffering people inside. One needs your shoulder to cry on. The other needs your shoulder to lean on. And the last…Anthony…needs one of your legs to stand on." He wait's a moment. "In the past you have gone above and beyond the call of duty not only within the field and to NCIS, but to your _team_. You have been their guide, and their mentor, their friend, their inspiration. Abigail fishes through every spec of evidence at a rate, at times, is not considered humanly possible just so she can receive a visit, a Caf-Pow, and a simple display of affection from you. Timothy longs for your direction knowing that the only way he can successfully feel as part of the team in the complete sense is to turn his nervousness into readiness, by working his fingers as fast as he possibly can when you point to him and demand he use his extreme knowledge of technology towards a heated case, and Jethro, he has gone beyond that already. He is so much more than a 'computer geek', he is the Agent which you took to Tel Aviv in hopes of retrieving those that got tangled up due to events that occurred…" He breathes in. "…and Anthony…Anthony needs the greatest help of all. His strength is in the form of humor and when events become too drastic and terrible, he fails. He fails because he can not muster any energy or any guts to use humor to mask his true feelings. This is not an insecurity issue or a little boy lost problem, Jethro. He is hurting because of what has happened-"

"He made a decision." Gibbs says with a shaky breath. "He went against me."

"Only because you weren't there to show him any means of support." Ducky understands his friend. "Think of it this way, Jethro, he went against you, but he went for the _team_."

Gibbs stands still; his back still facing his friend.

"He _wanted_ her back…" He pauses for a moment. "…and he _knew_ you wanted her back as well. We _all_ did."

"If he were to have followed direct orders, he would have returned to the states with his hands clean. We all would have."

"He did follow direct orders. Time and time again you belittle the position of the Director due to, what I am _sure_, is bitterness left over from a love affair that ended long ago, when in fact you should be respecting her and following through to her orders."

Gibbs turns around with a lot on his mind.

"I respect her, but she played dirty."

"She got in over her head. It is not the first time and it will not be her last. Continuing to treat Anthony in the way you are doing because he directly chose to speak to the Director instead of you makes you intolerable."

"He should have come to me."

"Damn it, Jethro, you won't be here _forever_!" Ducky exclaims. "You can't expect everyone on your team to depend on your wisdom when it comes to their wants and needs-"

"That's not-"

"Trust, Jethro…_trust_ doesn't _only_ belong to you." Ducky waits for his words to sink in. "Anthony trusts the Director, too…whether you like it or not."

Gibbs stands still, unsure of what to say next.

"…and he has shown more maturity by continuing to respect her decisions as well as finding time to speak with her about what happened with Jeanne."

"Good. I'm just not cut out to play a love doctor." Gibbs mutters rudely.

"No, Jethro, but once upon a time you were cut out to _try _as anything for anything…respectfully for anyone who was worthy." Ducky puts his foot out to take a step closer, but refrains from doing so. "Now you're only capable of doing for yourself, and going about it angrily and unfairly."

Cold sweat clings to his body in the cool, but humid summer air. Ducky's words bite into his flesh and pain he has never felt before in so many parts of his body makes him ache and throb.

"…and until you, 'if' you, be the man I have always known you to be, you are no longer welcome in my good graces." Ducky frowns. "…because it _hurts_ me to see who you choose to be more than it will _ever_ hurt you." Taking a deep breath, he lets it outs slowly. "I would have enough strength to see you out, but we are already on the outside. Goodnight, Jethro."

Without another word, Ducky turns around and marches up his porch steps and leaves his troubled friend alone in the darkness and dust.


	38. To Be Free

**Chapter 38: To Be Free**

**_Two Months Later_**

DiNozzo enters the bar with his shoulders down and head low. As the clouds of cigarette smoke floats in his direction, he inhales sharply, yearning to taste it in his mouth.

The bartender winks her welcome, but even her flirtatious body language goes unnoticed to the troubled Italian. Frowning, she turns professional and takes his drink order.

* * *

Three empty short, but thick drinking glasses stand proudly next to one another as their capturer clings on to another one of their replicas.

The strong taste of the darkened liquor goes officially unnoticed as he hungrily catches the last droplets from the glass.

The attractive bartender wonders about his next order even though the voice in her head tells her that he has had enough for one night.

* * *

Open space and sawdust lingers and clings. The Marine sits on top a wooden bar stool inside the emptiness of his unfinished basement. His elbows balance on the tops of his knees as his forearms balance his weight on either side of the bottle of Bourbon and mason jar, which happens to be filled to the rim.

The bottle stands half-proudly as it sits half-empty. The glass, its partner, stands tall and completely proud in preparation for what inevitably will occur.

* * *

Professionally the case had closed; had gone away, hopefully to never again return. A wish so full of a hope, but a remaining voice that begged to be heard as it spoke nothing, but the _truth_.

The murders of her husband and father would never truly disappear due to the lack of evidence that existed. The only thing she and her former co-partners had in their favor had been Lior's cell phone that he thought to leave behind.

* * *

A loud knock travels straight through the open door of the basement. Gibbs groggily groans before putting his two feet on the cement floor and getting off the stool.

As he travels the steps he thinks who his uninvited, yet _expected_ visitor could be. The very thought makes his head begin to throb as his stomach starts to twist in knots and turn like a rollercoaster.

Within no time he is standing as tall as he can muster behind his front door. Clearing his throat, he focuses sternly straight ahead as if his front door is the protective barrier to the terrible world on the outside.

As he inhales, his hand twists the doorknob and the former Mossad is made visible.

At the sight of her, he feels the sudden rush to inhale again, so he does.

"Ziva."

"Gibbs."

Their names collide as their eyes lock on to one another. The frigid winter air from outside rushes past her tense shoulders and mixes in with the usual chill of his home.

"I apologize." She speaks first; softly. "Yet, I still would like to speak with you if you will…allow me some of your time?"

He stands and analyzes the question she has asked him, while she tries to keep her knees from knocking together from the whipping wind.

"Gotta come inside, first." He says easily. "Cold outside."

"Yes, it is." She offers a thin-lipped smile before stepping onto his door mat.

He stays in place as she wipes the bottom of her boots on his front door mat, then looks at her.

"I'd like to shut this door." He raises his already point-ish eyebrows.

Taking a few steps, she clears his path and watches as he shuts the door, leaving it unlocked as usual.

"Jacket." He points to her padded shoulder.

She is cautious, so she stands tall and reserved. She squints; trying to read him.

"If you're cold, I could start a fire."

"That isn't necessary." She says quickly. "I will keep my jacket on."

He shrugs, then pushes past her. "Have a seat." He motions towards his living room couch. "Be with you in a minute."

She opens her mouth to call out to him, but instead changes her mind as she soaks in the dense atmosphere of what he calls his living room. The damp and darkness soon disappears though as she emerges from the kitchen with a lit candle and few pieces of dried wood under one of his arms.

"In the mood for a fire." He mutters more to himself than her as he drops the wood onto floor before the darkened mouth of his fireplace. "Power's out…besides warmth, it'll sure as a good source of light."

She nods, but never finds the nerve to find a seat.

"This'll only take a minute." He tries to be casual, but even he senses how funny it sounds. "Have a seat?" He now decides to ask instead of being direct as he had been moments before.

"Perhaps it is best if I stand…"

They both absorb the uncertainty, but neither says anything about it.

"What'd you want to talk about?"

"Ah, yes." Her mind screams at her for being in a bit of a delay. "What you did for Tony and myself…_your_ team, I think, will forever go unforgotten." She begins to move carefully, but his back still faces her as he works at the task at hand. "Without your determination to find some sort of evidence…we would never be freed…of all of this."

He drags the tip of the long match and sparks fly as it bursts into flames. Leaning forward, he places the blazing flame under the three logs, then stands and dusts off his hands.

"Your statement isn't entirely true." He drags his eyes from the fireplace to stare into her eyes. "Things could take a turn for the worst…things could come back in the end." He pauses. "Better hope nothing happens to the Director…she agreed to what was agreed to because it had been _personal _as well as professional." He shrugs casually. "…but I'm sure you already knew that…same goes for DiNozzo."

"I thought to visit because I felt you _needed_ a 'Thank You'." Her forehead creases; a moment of helplessness flashes before her eyes. "Please…_take it_."

"How are you to know what I need?" He questions. "…and why is it that you felt this?" He shakes his head in shame at the gruffness in his tone. "Nevermind." He mutters. "How is DiNozzo?"

"It has been a couple of weeks since I have last seen him." She shrugs; worriedly. "At times I feel terrible for not being near, but…transitions have appeared in my life."

"Good?" His eyebrows raises.

"Hard to tell at this point." She looks to her feet, then to the fire. "It caught quickly."

"I guess I've still got it." He tries for a lighthearted joke, but it is not enough to get a pleasant rise out of her.

She offers him another thin-lipped smile.

He places his hands on his hips and looks around the empty living room.

"Are you open for coffee?" He asks softly.

"Normally, I would take an offer of tea, but-"

"I've got a coupla bags." He catches the surprise in her eyes. "…Du…they belong to a friend." He hopes his cover worked, but the look in her eyes tells him that she knows. "He hasn't been around for some time… but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I shared one of his _simple_ pleasures."

"I do not think so either." The corners of her mouth perk slightly as she gives him a slight nod. "I would love a cup."

"Have a seat." He says for the third time, this time the gruff directness and the uncertainty is replaced with a taste of casualness. "Be back in a few."

* * *

Making it a habit to walk is a bright decision, but making it a habit to walk while drunk is not. The sweet-talking Italian walks in a zig-zag fashion along the sidewalk. Passerby's find amusement in his behavior so they refuse to lend him a much needed helping hand. As he turns the corner, he stumbles from the sidewalk and nearly ends up flying into the middle of on-coming traffic.

* * *

"It is something nice to remember." She says while taking the steaming cup of tea from his hand.

He stays quiet as he finds a seat opposite from his couch. He brings his mug to his lips and tastes the strong coffee.

Her attention falls onto his roaring fire. As her eyes glisten from the reflection of flames in her eyes, he clears his throat gently.

"What is?" He questions, then shrugs. "…what is 'something' nice to remember?"

"Simple pleasures." She says, but does not break her gaze with the blaze of reds, oranges, and yellows.

"A cup of tea can do all of that?"

"Sometimes…" She inhales. "…sometimes…"

"Which…simple pleasures?" His eyebrows raise slightly.

"That is something I wish not to discuss…not right now." She says meekly. "I hope you _understand_."

"At the end of the day…at the end of it all…I _do_." He pauses momentarily. "…do you?"

"Sometimes." She offers more quickly than she should have. "…sometimes I find it hard to accept all that has happened."

He nods slightly while turning his neck. "Use your strength…" He turns to find her staring at him. "…to _accept_ it, _all_ of it." He pauses. "It's easier to _accept_ rather than it is to _approve_…and there's not a damn thing out there that should make you approve."

Ziva focuses on her cup of tea. Her mind holding on to his words as a smirk plays on her lips.

"That feels like a rule."

He hangs his head, blushing a bit. "Nah…nowhere near one." He waits for her to speak, but finds that the silence lingers. Lifting his head, he finds her looking at him with a raised eyebrow; looking questionable. "It's advice."

"As what, Gibbs…if you do not mind me asking?" Her voice slightly uneven.

His eyes glisten from the warmth and glow of the fire. His mouth opening slightly to speak, but closing as soon as he catches the openness within her eyes.

"As someone who cares…" His throat tightens as he sets his coffee mug on top of his coffee table. "…if that's something you'll allow…"

She looks at him as if she were a deer caught in a pair of headlights. Her expression is so unlike her usual types, but it suits her because of all that she _worries_ about.

"I know…I know…" He begins; already finding it hard to be calm. "…I haven't any right to apologize, and not just because I've repeatedly stated it's a sign of weakness, but because it's long over-due." He reaches for his coffee mug, but chooses to push it further away. "You see, I…"

"Gibbs, please."

"No, Ziva, you've…gotta listen to me. You've got to listen to me now. I don't want to…to waste anymore time!" He leans a bit back and shakes his head slightly to center himself. "Putting a bullet through any part of the team would have hurt much less than what I put them through. I've caused so much damage to their lives professionally and personally. I've treated them all unfairly; boosted the others ego while deflating the others, constantly." The moisture in his eyes are no longer from the heat of the fire or the glow. "Putting a bullet through any part of you would have hurt much less than what I put…you through." He pauses as he feels a tightness from within his chest. "Seeing your face again should have been enough for me to give you a better chance…any kind of chance, but it didn't." He sighs slowly and quietly. "Just knowing the fact that after placing you in the hands of your father you survived his torment…you _survived_…it should have been enough, it should have made me react differently."

"We have spoken of this before, Gibbs." She puts her head to the side, her own eyes glistening. "We have found a common ground…we both were angry at one another and unsure of how to go about interacting with one another…" She nods slowly. "…we have spoken on how you understood from the moment it was happening until it fully happened…and it was _you_ who _tried_ to be there for me…and it had been _me_ who _refused _to take your sincerity and care seriously." She shrugs helplessly. "I…I acted childishly."

He opens his mouth, but chooses not to speak as he watches a tear roll down her cheeks. "Help me, Ziva." He tries to swallow the thickness in his throat. "…_help me help you…my team…" _He cringes momentarily. "…please…help _me_."

Tearing her eyes from his strong gaze, she blinks as the brightness of the fire hits her face. In doing so, more tears fall from her eyes and begin their journey down her warm cheeks.

Gibbs sits there unsure of what her reaction will be now that he has been painfully honest with her for the first time ever.

"I am surprised at you, Gibbs." She cuts herself off quickly as she feels her throat tighten. "It is not like you to ask for someone's help."

He listens intently because her tone is strained with pain rather than with anger.

"…especially _mine_." She uses one hand to wipe at her eyes.

"…Ziva?" He waits quietly and as patiently as he can for her to answer him.

"Gibbs…" She turns her head and faces him once again. "…do you know what it feels like to be free?"

He leans back slightly, then takes a deep breath.

"…in my dreams…" He gives her a small smirk, but his sadness can not go unread. "…imagine that."

She smiles sadly; a hint of surprise twinkles in her eyes as her ears ring with his choice of answers.

"I have…_lately_…" Her eyebrows raise for a second.

After a beat, he nods his head knowingly. "Tell me about it, Ziva."

"…simple pleasures…" She says softly. "…a good book…a box of chocolates…sunshine…" She watches as his eyes slip shut. "…a light breeze…a friendly greeting…a photograph."

Opening his eyes, he tries to blink back tears. "…the perfect opportunity…huh?" He smiles warmly at her knowing eyes. "Where ya goin'?"

"I have not decided yet." She shrugs with a hopeful look on her face. "Perhaps wherever the wind takes me…"

"I'm jealous." He states softly.

"Of me?"

"The wind." He hangs his head once again, but soon raises it again. "Tell me about it, Ziva…_sometimes_…" With wet eyes and a beaming smile, he locks eyes with her. "…I'd _love_ a good story."


	39. The Long Awaited Welcome

**Chapter 39: The Long Awaited Welcome**

_One Year Later_

The usually flamboyant Goth sits on top her work stool with strong shoulders; her behavior unusually calm and reserved.

Her blank computer screen stares back at her large, dark eyes as if they were the black pool of memories she found herself frightened to look within. Turning slightly, she places her attention on the large Caf-Pow that has been sitting there for her to have for the last ten minutes.

* * *

The golden Tech-Boy of the team sits casually at his work desk. His conservative-style computer desktop stares him in the face; creating a soothing calm to his buzzing nerves.

Hours before he figured that he had awoken from a dream to fall directly into a nightmare, but as the ticking of the clock on his wrist continued to be so accurate and constantly, his original thought began to diminish into nothingness.

* * *

Jammed packed inside the steel box stands the Italian Stallion. A few more stops and he'll be by himself; able to ride up to his destination in peace.

Looking at his feet, he clutches his NCIS bag pack like the dutiful boy scout and wonders about the day and how it will unfold.

* * *

The natural chill of autopsy seems to be at bay as a twist of warmth springs forth through the air straight from the area of the teams Medical Examiner.

Ducky stands with his arms crossed; a pleasant sigh threatening to escape him. His much younger assistant lets loose one of his own and begins to say everything that the good doctor has held back.

"Today's the day, Doctor." Jimmy Palmer speaks quickly; almost afraid that a single second of the day could be wasted. "It'll only be about another hour…or so." He grins wildly. "Suppose we go upstairs earlier-"

"We mustn't jump the gun, Mr. Palmer." He speaks with such wisdom held. "Besides, the first moments aren't ours to have…" He nods at him slowly. "There are _three_ people upstairs that need those moments to themselves."

Jimmy stares in acknowledgement.

The doctor stares back.

* * *

The aged Marine is on the move as he is every morning. His usual cup of steaming black and strong coffee sits inside a tall paper cup waiting to be guzzled down until it reaches the pit of his steel belly.

The only thing slightly unusable is the slightly upbeat prance he has developed on this particular morning. It was is one that tries to goes unnoticed by him, but one that his two male team members could never ignore even if they tried.

"He walks on the tips of his toes…" DiNozzo begins in a proud-like voice. "Just like they teach you at ballet school…" He catches the gruff stare that can only be created by the Marine. "…kidding boss."

"They don't walk, DiNozzo. They dance." He catches McGee's wild eyes. "Ballet is a form of dance…everybody knows that." He finishes with a mumble. "I didn't get up this morning to have you two poke fun of me, did I?"

"I don't know…did you?" DiNozzo gives him a crooked brow. "Perhaps I should continue?"

"Perhaps you should STOP, DiNozzo." He barks, startling Tony and making McGee snicker. He gives McGee a tiny smirk before finding his seat and placing his coffee cup down on top of his desk. "What've we got?"

DiNozzo looks questionably at Gibbs before looking in the direction of McGee. "McGeek?"

"…Tony?" He asks with a look just as questionable.

Gibbs smirks at the two while folding his hands over his desk, resting them there, as he places his elbows on top of the table to rest them as well.

"DiNozzo? McGee?" He waits. "Anything?"

"Anything?" DiNozzo squeaks as he tries to pass off a lie. "We don't just got anything, we've got 'something'. Something, you may ask? Well, let me be the one to tell you just exactly what 'something' really means…" He tosses a sideways glance to McGee who catches it, but can not think of a way to respond. "…we've got nothing boss." He says in a flat-tone.

"Any particular reason why?" Gibbs as DiNozzo first.

"I was…I had something personal that needed to be taken care of."

"McGee?"

"…I was working on my novel?"

Gibbs holds their answers for a few minutes, then rises from his chair easily. "Time?"

"Time? Time for what?" DiNozzo's ears wiggle as he grows alert. "Crime Scene Time?"

"What time is it, DiNozzo."

"Half past seven, boss." McGee answers quickly.

"Sit. Relax." He says to them both before catching the eyes of the Director from above the stairs. "Be back by eight."

* * *

"I am to understand that she'll serve your team well, Agent Gibbs?"

"No question…Leon." Gibbs says sternly. "She's was a part of the team a few years ago."

"What happened?" Director Vance keeps the file open in front of him, but decides to look Gibbs in the eyes for the answer.

"It's right there in front of you, Leon." Gibbs says with that usual smirk on his lips.

"This is her file, compiled from three different Agencies…"

"Don't forget words from Director Sheppard."

"That's why I'm asking!" His voice loud and sharp.

Gibbs stiffens slightly, but mentally shakes it off. "There's nothing to be kept from you."

"Why am I having a hard time believing you?"

"…I don't know." Gibbs shrugs. "That's your problem." He knits his eyebrows and narrows his eyes. "The request was put in. You told me you would allow me this."

"I did. You're correct. I also had time to re-think what I had told you and I couldn't help, but think I must have momentarily been out of my damn mind." He squints; trying to read Gibbs. "I don't trust you, Gibbs."

"Same for me, Leon." Gibbs shrugs. "You want to use our time together to try to find some of it or do you want to make our lives a living hell?"

"Inside, it'll be hell, but outside the job, it won't."

Gibbs nods; catching the picture frames of his family on his desk. He knows the photos they hold because he has found time to do a bit of snooping while the Director is not there.

"Fair enough, Leon." Gibbs pushes back his rage as best he can. "You're the Director, call it all off if you have to, but the next filler I have at David's desk, is going to get the bad end of my attitude."

"How bad?"

"Extremely." Gibbs is short. "I don't like having to play musical chairs with the Agents I've been getting."

"Agent Huntington served you well, yes?"

"One." He pauses. "She was _one_ that served me and my team well."

"And the others?"

"They want to be the boss."

"It's all about you, isn't Agent Gibbs?"

"It's about following the chain of command." He says sternly. "The others know that."

"Others?"

"Agents DiNozzo and McGee…and David." He sighs. "Whatever you want to know about Ziva David is in her file. It's all there."

"For someone with her work history, her file feels empty…it feels incomplete." Vance tries with his eyes to get Gibbs to open up, but Gibbs keeps the tight bindings around him. "…fine, Agent Gibbs, we'll do it your way for the time being, but if she falls off track, if she so much as resorts to any kind of tactic only a Mossad would know of, she's gone. Never to return to your team or any team within this Agency or any other one operating in this country."

Gibbs breaks into a small smile. "The role of Director suits you very nicely, Leon."

He bites back a curse word. "Get out of my office."

"Yes, _Director_." Gibbs mutters with a satisfying grin.

* * *

It is the end of the day. The Agents are exhausted, but still alive with enough energy to keep them focused on the case that is still incomplete.

"Ugh…the life I live is sad at times." DiNozzo begins as he settles into his wheel-y chair with a grin. "Then I look at my partners and realize that my life isn't at all sad."

"Shut up, Tony." McGee mutters before he looks at Ziva.

"Do you get some sort of sick thrill out of making fun of your co-workers?"

"No. I just get an ordinarily thrill out of making fun of my co-workers." He grins politely. "I only get a sick thrill out of my pranks…on my co-workers."

"You ought to be fired."

"This building would weep for me." He speaks highly of himself.

"I feel as if I have stepped into a time machine…" Ziva comments, but welcomes the mirroring grins of her two partners. "…It is rather nice."

Tony's grin widens into a full-blown smile and McGee follows merrily.

At the top of the stairs, Gibbs discreetly watches the three members of his team. He feels the unusual feeling that only can only be described as a bubbly kind of happiness; the kind of happiness that only someone like Abby could create and show to onlookers.

Keeping it bottled up inside, he feels the pressure rising, and begins pushing his feet forward until he stands inside the middle of the squad room.

"Go home." He says to them.

"Boss?"

"Our prime suspect can't catch a flight until sometime tomorrow. Look outside." He points to the row of large windows. "Storm cancelled a ton of flights."

"We we can go home?"

"If you quit talkin' and start walkin', DiNozzo, you just might make it there."

Tony instantly looks at Ziva; slightly frowning as he thinks about what he should do.

McGee stands slowly from his seat, but even he frowns a bit as he thinks about what he should do.

Ziva sits there with her hands on her keyboard. Her day has consisted of any means of help she could provide to the others as they worked feverishly to make even the slightest dent in the case. Being away off the field and office duty for quite a while means she must continue to work from the bottom to the top for the second time in her life.

"Same goes for you, Ziva." Gibbs speaks somewhat softly as he checks for any alerts in his emails.

"Couldn't I just stay here?" DiNozzo speaks before Ziva can form an answer. "I mean, I practically live here."

"What? No you don't." McGee jumps at him like a little brother.

"Shut up Probie, yes I do." DiNozzo pouts before giving him a tiny glare. "I own this file cabinet."

"It belongs to Headquarters, DiNozzo." Gibbs calls out.

"Okay…well, I own what's inside this file cabinet." He slaps the file cabinet like its his best buddy. "We go way back."

"Oh yeah? Well my desk and I go way back." McGee goes to smack his work desk on one of its sides, but instead opts to pat it gently.

"Would the four of you like a hotel room?" Ziva questions with a raised brow.

Gibbs smirks at her question, then looks to his two male Agents. "Go home, the three of you. It's an order."

Tony grumbles as he realizes he does not have the option to enjoy Ziva's company for the rest of the night.

McGee lightly sighs as he realizes he does not have the option to enjoy Ziva's company for the rest of the night.

Several minutes pass and Ziva finally begins to gather her things.

"How was it?" He asks quietly though there isn't anyone left within earshot.

"How was what?" She asks why slowing her hands.

"Your simple pleasures…" He finds her eyes this time; his email alerts long gone. "…if you don't mind me asking…"

Her eyes soften and an easily smile forms on her lips. "Refreshing. New. Needed." She pauses for a moment. "There will be a time I can share."

He nods; understanding what she means. "Suppose you should get home now…its getting slippery out there."

"Yes." She nods, then zips her backpack. Turning back towards him, she finds him staring at his computer screen once again. "And you?" She shrugs when he stares at her. "Slippery for me means slippery for you."

He grins. "Suppose so, David." He bobs his head up and a down. "Walk you out?"

"Yes." She stands tall. "That is _simple_ enough."

He grabs his car key and holds it within his palm. She waits patiently as he finds himself next to her. Walking together towards the elevator, they find an unspoken content with each other.

"It's a _pleasure_, too." He says charmingly.

**FIN**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is it everyone. This is the final chapter. I don't know what else to say except that I am more than grateful for all the reviews I received (especially after I took so many long breaks from the fic because of issues with my personal life).

I hope everyone is enjoying the new season of NCIS. I personally like it better than last season, so that's a good thing.

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed reading all this time, from "Wandering Around This Town" all the way into "Carry On". Clearly somethings were tied up while others weren't, but those that aren't just means that you as readers can imagine your own completion to it. Like the show, sometimes things are better just left open-ended for all those open-minds out there.

Oh, and of course, hope everyone will continue to love Gibbs and Ziva. They just simply are the best, aren't they?

Thanks again for reading guys. Hope you had as much fun as I know I did writing (and reading the reviews).

Later Days!

**-Geekery (Sabrina)**


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